


I remember you

by Madame_Xela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Fem!Harry, Gen, Harry and Bilbo are twins, Knowing me, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Siblings, Reincarnation, Rule 63, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Thilbo is going to take a while, Trans Character, fem!Bilbo, messing with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Xela/pseuds/Madame_Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard to tell what nights are going to be good nights when she goes to sleep. Some nights she dreams of long, dark hallways and the hissing language of serpents. Some nights she dreams of fire hotter than anything she can imagine, of swords clashing, of screaming, of blood, of spiders, of a young man with dark curly hair…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my docs too! I have about three chapters worth at the moment. Let me know what you think!

It’s hard to tell what nights are going to be good nights when she goes to sleep. Some nights she dreams of long, dark hallways and the hissing language of serpents. Some nights she dreams of fire hotter than anything she can imagine, of swords clashing, of screaming, of blood, of spiders, of a young man with dark curly hair…

Some nights- _good_ nights-she dreams of laughter, of a warm hearth and big fuzzy feet and of sweet smoke, of thirteen short and faceless men around a fire (or in a beautiful room, or in a field), of sitting on a pony and laughing at one of the men’s jokes until she nearly falls, of seven meals, of whiskery kisses, of impossibly tiny children, of missing handkerchiefs, of Billa smiling as she twirls in a bright dress…

The snippets of dreams that she remembers in the morning are never in any order. One night she dreams of being old and wrinkled as she and Billa gift the dark haired boy a silvery white shirt and a sword, the next she dreams of being a small child watching fireworks light up the entire sky.

Billa too has had dreams like her. Though she does not dream of the dark hallway like Harry does. Instead she dreams of a soft whisper-silken and sweet as honey as they promise companionship and to never leave her side. She dreams of sugarcoated lies and hisses of ‘ _mine’_ and ‘ _precious’_.  

Neither quite know when the dreams started. By the beginning of their third year these dreams had not begun, and yet by June they were almost expected when they went to sleep. They tell no one but each other-not Hermione or Ron or Neville, or any other Weasley, no teacher or even their Godfathers.

It’s their secret.

And really, what harm was there in these dreams anyway?


	2. The Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Hogwarts is like home to them, the Burrow had a certain, homey feel to it that the castle could never quite have. It reminded them of the large home under the hill from their dreams.

On the morning that the Weasleys are scheduled to pick them up, Harry and Billa wake in foul moods. Harry spent the night dreaming of walking through darkness and sickness, starving and grumpy and weak. Billa dreamt of a misty world of grays and blacks and whites as she ducks around-hiding from someone and looking for others, starving and terrified.

They break into their old stash of treats Mrs. Weasley and Hermione had sent them.

“First breakfast.” Harry says quietly.

Billa snorts, though there is no humor in it. “We’re lucky if we get any breakfast in this place, Har.” Harry doesn’t have a response to that.

*

There’s a very good chance that Harry and Billa will remember Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s faces at their half exploded living room for the rest of their lives.

They knew they would never forget Dudley’s face once the magical toffee went to work.

*

Though Hogwarts is like home to them, the Burrow had a certain, homey feel to it that the castle could never quite have. It reminded them of the large home under the hill from their dreams.

(Several of their thirteen male companions had at one point referred to the home as a burrow. Rude.)

It’s cluttered, yes, and constantly looks like it will topple over, but there’s warmth and love. It’s not stifling and neat like the Dursley house. It’s well lived in and fairly tidy. If Billa looked up she could see scorch marks from past arguments. If Harry turned her head to the left, she could see little marks on the walls from when one of the Weasleys were still children. It felt like a home.

*

The girls met Bill and Charlie for the first time-the eldest brothers of the Weasley clan. The eldest, Bill, was tall and muscular with his long red hair tied back and a fang in his ear that swayed back and forth with his movements (The fang makes the girls think of their short companion with the floppy hat).

The younger, Charlie, was also a redhead with long hair, though he was short and far more muscular than his brother, and his forearms were littered in callouses and healing blisters and one shiny burn.

They were quite charming and kind, like the rest of the family. They had gotten up from the table to stoop and give the Potter girls welcoming hugs (and the promise of a Quidditch match later on, because with star players like these, how could they pass that up?). Billa was fairly certain that Charlie was trying to break their backs with his hugs. Well, he did handle dragons for a living.

(Odd, that. Dragons did not seem the type to be easily handled)

But before anything else could be said or done, Mr. Weasley popped into the kitchen and started yelling at Fred about the toffee. And perhaps the girls should have felt bad about what had happened to Dudley, he was, after all, just a muggle boy. But he was a mean and vile thing and both Harry and Billa silently cheered their friends’ creativity.

However, once Molly Weasley was thrown into the argument…well the twins were more than eager to get out of the kitchen. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were not far behind.

*

Ron explained Fred and George’s business to them as they made their way to his room. They were stopped once by Percy-who grouched about being disturbed from his work, but offered them a polite greeting nonetheless. Billa and Harry felt bad for him. He looked very tired and stressed-and the poor man certainly couldn’t get too much quite in this house without the use of several spells.

“What are you working on?” Harry asked.

Percy went off explaining how his report was to standardize the thickness of cauldrons. This of course led to a spat between he and Ron that Billa ended with a sharp elbow to their friend’s ribs.

“We’ll try to be quieter Percy.” The copper haired girl said softly. She smiled at him.

“But don’t forget to take a break every now and again.” Harry reminded him.

He smiled tiredly, promising them that he would take a break in a short while, and then shut his door.

The group made their way up three more flights of stairs to Ron’s room. It was just like Harry and Billa remembered; it was still that bright orange color, with Ron’s favorite Quidditch team (the Chudley Cannons) flying about the walls and the ceiling. There was a large frog in the fish tank at the window, and all traces of Scabbers had been (thankfully) removed, replaced by a tiny and energetic owl named Pig-or so Ron called him.

Ginny scowled at him. “It’s Pigwidgeon, stupid.”

Apparently, Ginny had named the owl, and Ron hated it. He also moaned and groaned about keeping the little owl in his room (‘he annoys Hermes and Errol, he annoys me too’), but Harry and Billa knew him too well to actually believe his words.

The five settled about the room. Ron and Harry sat on the bed, Billa by the window, and Hermione and Ginny lounging on the floor. They talked about many things. Crookshanks and his love of chasing the garden gnomes, Percy’s job, how Remus had been (they almost slipped and spoke of Sirius, but with Ginny there, they stopped themselves), and of how their summer’s went.

They did not speak of the dreams.

Once the shouts of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could no longer be heard, the group decided that it was safe enough to go downstairs and assist Mrs. Weasley in making dinner.

“We’re eating in the garden.” They were told. Harry and Billa loved the garden. It was lush and open and green. “There simply isn’t enough room for twelve people in the dining room.”

(Billa and Harry remain silent, thinking of another dining room that housed thirteen short and faceless males, a tall gray figure, and their two small bodies. It was quite cramped. They did not blame Mrs. Weasley for moving to a more open area.)

Ginny and Hermione took out the plates, Ron and Harry the napkins and silverware, and Billa the cups.

They had to duck out of the way of flying cutlery and food-Mrs. Weasley was still very angry at the twins (Fred and George) and because of this she was more rough and careless with her magic. They bolted out into the garden.

*

Setting the table had to wait in favor of an impromptu table jousting match between Bill and Charlie, stopping only when Percy began shouting at them from his window. The older brothers were cheerful enough about it though. They grinned and told jokes that had Percy’s face flushing as he slammed his window shut.

Soon after the tables were repaired and set. And not long after that they were piled with dishes upon dishes of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.

Harry and Billa were mostly silent, in favor of eating the food rather than conversing. It was heaven eating real food again after weeks of stale rations.

( _Tables piled high, groaning under the weight of so much food. Many little creatures with large, hairy feet stopped their wild dancing long enough to take a small mountain of food._

_An entire pantry’s worth of food spread amongst a table. So much laughter._

_A little dark haired boy sitting at the table, waiting patiently for his aunts to finish preparing supper._

_Fifteen empty satchels in the darkness. No more rations.)_

The Weasleys talk about everything and nothing. They speak of Percy and Mr. Weasley’s jobs at the Ministry, of Bill’s fashion sense that his mother did not approve of, of the World Cup and of England’s failure in the sport.

Ron and Hermione speak in hushed tones to them as they talk about their godfathers. Sirius was on the run still, and Remus had settled back into his tiny cottage. It was rather unfair, in their opinions. Their godfathers had done little wrong.

*

Not long after that the sun was down completely and the garden lit only by fairy lights. It was beautiful. They finished eating their supper and moved to dessert. Once they were finished and stuffed, Mrs. Weasley sent the younger children (meaning everyone under their majority) off to bed.

“Oh Harry, Billa. Leave me your school lists in the morning. I’m going out to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get school supplies in case the Cup runs long. You can never be too careful.”

Billa and Harry set aside their coin and lists once they’re back in Ron’s room (Mrs. Weasley hadn’t wanted the girls to room with Ron, but Ginny’s room couldn’t house four girls and their packs. And she did have _some_ faith in the teenagers. Mostly Harry and Billa). Fred and George join them, making a nest of blankets on the floor. When Ron asks why they don’t just sleep in their own room their reply was that it will be easier for their mother to wake them in the morning and they’ve missed the other set of twins too, Ronnykins; stop hogging them.

Surprisingly though, the older twins don’t pester them or keep the younger three up all night. They give goodnight hugs and hair ruffles and collapse into a heap on their nest. Ron is asleep and snoring soon after.

Billa and Harry share a fond look, and curl up on their cot and wonder what dreams await them in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last finished chapter. Let me know what you think!


	3. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Enjoy the match!” Billa offers. A moment later she adds a quick ‘Good Morning!’.   
> As they walk away they can hear the man muttering.   
> “… ‘Good Morning’ed by Belladonna Took’s daughters a second time! The nerve!”

Morning comes too soon for them.

Mrs. Weasley is there gently shaking them all awake sometime before dawn. She was barely surprised at her set of twins on the ground, merely dropping to wake them and walking out once they were rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

(Sleep that night had brought pleasant dreams for Billa. Of long salt and pepper hair, of braids and beads, and of warm hugs and soft furs.

Harry dreamt of the long hallway.)

The five are too sleepy to form coherent sentences. They change in silence. Billa and Harry masterfully changed their pants and underpants under the covers, and their bras and shirts under their nightshirts. Had the Weasley twins and Ron been awake enough they would have commented on it (shock and disbelief at the manner they change their shirts, which would normally result in the trio attempting to do the same). But instead the three were busy getting caught and twisted in their clothing. Billa had to help Ron get his head out of his armhole, while Harry informed George that his shirt was on backwards and Fred’s pants were inside out.

Neither of the five is quite awake by the time they stumble into the kitchen. Billa barely manages to smile at Mr. Weasley when he asks about his muggle attire. He looked ridiculous.

They eat a quick but filling breakfast in silence.

By the time Hermione and Ginny come downstairs (apparently they had been up and fed for quite some time) the small group is ready to leave and the older set of twins are being yelled at by the mother ( _again_ ) for stashing their magical toffees on their bodies to take them to the World Cup.

Fred and George were out the door before anything else could happen.

*

The plan was to walk to a portkey and take the portkey to the Cup. Mr. Weasley explained what portkeys were and how they worked as they made their way through the pre-dawn darkness of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. They were, for lack of a better term, junk that were heavily charmed to take you from one place to another. And because there were so many of them in their group, they had to use one of the special portkeys that the ministry had placed for the occasion.

But who in the name of Merlin thought that it would be a good idea to place the portkey on a giant hill, and then _hide_ it? Especially when the people using it were going to do so in the dark?

The group had to spread out to look for it.

“Over here Arthur!” A new voice, loud and cheerful, called out. On the far end of the hill top stood two figures, one taller than the other.

Neither Harry nor Billa could recognize the voice, or the silhouettes in the darkness, but Mr. Weasley could for he shouted a greeting and then a name as he made his way to the duo. The rest of the children followed.

The closer they got, the clearer the other two became and it wasn’t long before the Potter girls made out the handsome face of Cedric Diggory. The other man must have been his father. Why on earth was he holding a moldy boot?

Mr. Weasley introduced the man as Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father. ( _‘Ten points to Harry’_ she thought to herself with a tired snicker) the two adults chatted until Amos let out shocked ‘Are all these yours Arthur?’. Mr. Weasley shook his head. He laughed.

“No, the redhead boys, and the youngest girl is mine. These are friends of my children. This is Hermione, and Billa, and Harry-”

“-Not _Harry_ _Potter_!?” The girl in question shifted uncomfortably, subconsciously moving to hide her scar from view. Billa bumped her shoulder. However, instead of the usual stares and praise that usually came from the mention of her name, Amos grinned. “Why Ced’s been talking non-stop about you. He told us about playing against you last year. When I first heard the story I said to him ‘Ced, won’t this be something to tell your grandchildren someday? About how you beat Harry Potter!’”

Cedric, for his part, looked mortified. Fred and George were sending him glares. Though she did not know for certain, Harry thought that it was because they were still bitter about the Quidditch match in question. “Dad, she fell off her broom. I keep telling you that.”

“Right-right. I think you’ve said about fifteen times this week that you can’t wait for a proper rematch! Why if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were smitten-”

“- _Dad_!” If Cedric looked mortified before, then he now he was embarrassment personified. His face was flushed scarlet as he glared at his father (who looked far too calm and cheerful than was necessary). Harry’s face was redder than the Weasley’s hair. Fred and George sent the Hufflepuff nasty looks. Ron looked like he was going to be sick. Hermione and Ginny were giggling behind them. Billa was giggling too, but for an entirely different reason.

( _Harry reached to the tips of her furry toes to gently bump her forehead against the faceless blond’s._ )

“Yes, well, I think it’s nearly time to go. Everyone touch the portkey now! Just a finger will do!” It does not escape Harry’s notice that Amos Diggory has tried to place Harry and Cedric next to one another. ‘Tried’ being the key word as Fred and George sandwich her between them. Bless them.

Mr. Weasley counted down from three to one, and once he hit the last number the sensation of being hooked at the naval and harshly tugged hit them all. They were whirling and flying through the wind, violently mind you. Harry banged into the twins several times. Ron’s long nose smashed into the back of Billa’s head twice. Hermione elbowed Ginny in the face. It wasn’t fun.

Though it felt like they were flying for an age, for these things tend to do that to a person, it ended as quickly as it started. And it ended painfully.

They slammed into the ground in a pile of limbs. The only ones who managed to stay standing were the Diggorys and Mr. Weasley. (Jerks)

Cedric, who merely looked like he had just gotten off a broom, walked to the pile and helped the girls up (Ron and Fred and George made it a point to stand up on their own, thank you very much), and when his touch lingered too long on Harry, Amos looked as if Christmas had come early.

The dark haired girl pried herself away with a slight grimace. “Err, thanks Cedric.”

“No problem.”

In the background, someone announced their arrival.

*

Billa didn’t like the tents. They were magnificent, yes, but there were so many. They made her think of her dreams. These magical tents were vastly different though. There was no blood caked on the hems, nor people tall and small running back and forth, covered in armor. In fact, these tents were downright cheerful. Some had little gardens in the front. Many had flags and merchandise for their favorite team hanging from them or placed around them.

But…these tents only made her think about one tent in particular. One cold tent from her dreams where the faceless man with salt and pepper hair spoke his last, muffled words.

( _‘If everybody valued home like you did, the world would be a merry place.’_ )

*

Hermione-who had the most experience camping-with the help of the Potter twins had their two tents set up in a short while. But there was a problem. By the end of the evening, there would be eleven of them. Surely there was no way that they would all fit into these two small tents!

“We might be a little cramped, but I think we should be good. Harry and Hermione and Billa raised their eyebrows at each other.

One by one the Weasleys entered the flap of the larger tent. It barely jostled.

“Well come one then!” Ron called from inside.

*

The inside was…well…magnificent. It was like a three room flat (bathroom and kitchen included) had been stuffed into the tent. Though the furniture was mismatched and outdated and everything smelled rather dusty, it was cozy. Harry idly wondered if Sirius had one of these for himself. She hoped so.

They took a quick tour of the ‘Girls Tent’ which was two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a sitting area (they didn’t need a kitchen since they’d be eating with the rest of the Weasleys) before Mr. Weasley sent Ron, Hermione, Harry and Billa out to fetch water from the camp tap.

*

Growing up in the Muggle world meant that Harry and Billa and Hermione hadn’t seen young magical children before. Though, they should have realized that such creatures existed. Watching them grow slugs with stolen wands and flying around on toy brooms and playing in front of their tents was a new and exciting experience. The girls cooed at the children, giggling and jumping out of the way when they were too focused on whatever game they were playing. Ron gagged.

And never before had they thought of witches and wizards in other parts of the world! Well, Harry hadn’t. But as they walked through the rows of tents, seeing wizards from Africa, North America, South America, Asia...she had to wonder just how vast the wizarding community really was. Surely Hermione and Billa-the bookworms that they were-would have more information on the subject.

They ran into Dean and Seamus and Seamus’s mother at one point. They chatted for a bit, and went off to take a look at the Bulgarian tents at Seamus’s request.

The Bulgarian tents were covered in their team’s merchandise. Harry asked Ron about the grumpy man on the posters. The redhead boy looked stricken.

“That is _Viktor Krum_ , Harry.” He nearly shrieked. “The Bulgarian Seeker-the greatest in the _world_!” Hermione and Billa rolled their eyes at him. Harry, on the other hand, smirked.

“The _best_ Seeker in the world, Ronnykins?” Her friend choked, babbling until Harry put him out of his misery. “It’s okay Ron! I was only kidding.”

“He really is a genius though, just wait!”

*

There was already a bit of a queue at the tap by the time the group got there. They waited and each collected a large bucket of water before turning back the way they came.

They ran into a few other people they knew from school: Cho Chang, Ernie Macmillan, and even Oliver Wood who dragged Harry-bucket and all-to his tent to meet his parents.

Harry took it in stride. She greeted them politely and answered the slew of Quidditch based questions they threw at her. And when it was time for her to go they clapped her on the back and told her enjoy the game.

Ron and Hermione weren’t with her sister when she finally made it back.

“Did they abandon you?” She asked guiltily.

Billa shook her head. “No, I know the way back and I figured Mr. Weasley would want the water sometime today.” There was a slight implication in her tone, but a smile on her face. Harry bowed her head.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to run into everybody it just-”

“-It happens, I know. Come on. I want to enjoy a nice cup of tea in front of the fire before the match.” Oh! That did sound lovely!

“Say Billa.” Harry starts after they’ve walked a little ways. “Doesn’t this remind out of…the thing?”

There was no question to what ‘the thing’ was. The copper haired girl nodded. “I don’t like it. Magic or not.” Her tone ends the conversation.

No one stops them again until they are fairly close to their campsite.

A man walked into their path and just stood there, making the girls stop. He was an older gentleman with a short white beard and with his long white hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore a long white robe and white trousers and white boots that could have been dragonhide. In his hands he held a long, pale staff. He looked both out of place and like he belonged where he stood. How did he manage that?

“Why, Billa and Harry Baggins! As I live and breathe!” He said in a voice that was vaguely familiar.

Baggins? Sirius had mentioned their grandmother on their father’s side having that surname, but it most certainly was not their own!

“Although, I suppose you go by Potter now…nevertheless, it has been far too long my friends.”

“I’m sorry, do we know you?” Billa asked.

The old man looked upset for a moment. Then he smiled. “No, I’m afraid. Or at least not yet. But perhaps soon. Yes, soon.” The twins shared a look. That man was a few knuts short of a sickle.

“R-ight.” Harry says, lifting the water bucket a little higher. “Terribly sorry sir, but we’ve a camp to get back to.”

“Enjoy the match!” Billa offers. A moment later she adds a quick ‘Good Morning!’.

As they walk away they can hear the man muttering.

“… ‘Good Morning’ed by Belladonna Took’s daughters a _second_ time! The nerve!”

( _‘To think that I should have lived to be ‘Good Morning’ed by Belladonna Took’s daughters as if I were selling buttons at the door!’_ )

They quickened their pace.

*

Only once more were they stopped. Well, only one had been stopped. Harry had lagged behind her sister, and as a result had almost run into a young man, nearly spilling her water onto him. She toppled back a bit, and slowly dropped the bucket to the ground to ease the splashing.

“Oh my-I’m so sorry!”

“No harm done.” He said in a thick accent. Harry looked up from her bucket. Thoughts of whatever she had planned to say fled from her mind as she gazed at the man that she had nearly run over.

He was incredibly handsome. With a square face, and cleft chin, blue eyes and golden hair, and sweet Merlin the _facial hair.._. Harry quickly looked away. She was certain that her face was as red as her sister’s hair! Oh, if Ron or the twins were around they’d never let her live it down!

She risked another glance at him. He was staring at her with a funny look. It was somewhere between looking at her as if she was a puzzle, and looking at her as if she was the most precious thing he had seen. Well…that certainly did _not_ help the redness of Harry’s face and ears.

“Can I get the name of the lady who nearly flattened me?” He asked in a way that sounded like he was not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Harry had to take a few breaths before her she could speak properly. “It’s…my name’s Harry.”

“Harry…” He breathed. Then he grinned. “Well, my lady, I hope to see you soon.” And with that he took her free hand and pressed it to his lips, all the while keeping eye contact with the dark haired girl. “I’m afraid I must leave.” He straightened. “My sister will be looking for me.” He looked as reluctant to leave as he sounded. But after a minute of silence he forced himself to move.

The golden haired boy walked off, pausing to give her one last farewell. “My name is Fíli, by the way.”

He left.

Up ahead, Billa yelled at her to hurry up.

*

By the time they made it back to the tent Bill, Charlie, and Percy had arrived and Fred and George had placed all their money in a betting pool.

“You bet all of it? Why?” Billa asked.

“Why not?” The older twins countered. Clearly, there was more that wasn’t being said, but the twins would not share any more.

Billa looked ready to smack them. “What team did you bet on?”

“We bet that Ireland will win-”

“-But Krum catches the snitch.”

“Oh Merlin…” Harry groaned. Those two would be the death of her.

*

It isn’t until they are buying souvenirs that Harry finds a silver hair clasp in her pocket. It’s small and heavy and ingrained with geometric designs in strips along its length. It was very pretty, but Harry didn’t own it-or anything like it.

Where had it come from? She pushed the thoughts of the clasp to the back of her mind as she purchases four sets of Omnioculars. She’d worry about it later.


	4. The Dark Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But what is that?” Harry asked as she looked for the person who had cast the spell. They were gone.
> 
> “It’s the Dark Mark, Har.” Billa whispered. The twins stared up at the glowing mark in the sky. It was a skull, like a green constellation of stars, with a snake slithering out of its mouth and coiling around its body.
> 
> Harry blinked slowly. “The Dark Mark?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a damn genius and decided to squeeze three chapters worth of content into one.

When Harry and Billa had met Dobby two years previous, they had thought that he was the strangest being they had met. Of course they were proven wrong.

The little house-elf (Winky) in the box with them was _arguing_ with them. She was adamant that her and her people should not get paid and that it was perfectly acceptable for her Master to make her do thing she didn’t want to (like sitting up there in the highest place in the arena).

“But _why_?” Billa countered gently. “You’re a hardworking living being. You deserve to be treated with the same respect as everyone else.”

Winky shook her head, her floppy ears hitting the side of her face. “No no no Misses. I is but a house-elf. I is knowing my place.”

Billa and Harry sighed. “We’re just going in circles, Bils.” The copper haired girl scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands.

“I know. I just feel…so much pity for these creatures.”

The younger twin bumped foreheads with her sister. A gesture that they had started doing once the dreams had started. “I know. You’ve a big heart Bils.” She moved to kneel in front of the small house-elf, placing her hands up in a sign of peace when the poor creature looked frightened. She understood why Billa and Hermione felt a lot of pity for house-elves. Often times (well, that they knew of) they were abused or mistreated. And while she agreed that it was awful, she knew that it would take a lot more than one talk to sway the stubborn creatures from the mindset that that treatment is okay. “We’re very high up Miss Winky. Would you like a scarf?” The house-elf shook her head furiously. Perhaps, offering clothes wasn’t the brightest idea. “Alright. Would you like for my sister and I to stand around you, to block the wind and the sights?” Another headshake.

“No Miss Harry Potter. Winky is being fine. Miss Harry Potter and Miss Billa Potter go and enjoy.”

“Okay Winky. But should you ever need anything-anything at all-please come find me, my sister, or Dobby, okay?” Billa cut in with a smile. 

Winky nodded. “Yes Miss Billa Potter.”

*

They had to share the box with Draco ‘My-Father-Will-Hear-About-This’ Malfoy. Fantastic. At least they were at separate ends.

*

Quidditch at Hogwarts was nothing like this. Later, Harry would remember mentioning to Fred and George how much more fun those matches would be if they introduced their House Mascots before the game. Later, she would also curse herself for giving them such an idea.

The Bulgarian team had brought Veela. They were incredibly beautiful women who danced hypnotically on the field. Though, Harry and Billa were not nearly as hypnotized as the others (Fred and George, Ron, and even little Ginny), they could not deny that they were sad when the dancers left. Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

The Irish team had brought Leprechauns that arrived in a giant shamrock that had golden dust pouring from the edges (Billa thought it was hilarious). The gold dust turned into actual gold at their feet.

( _‘Gold everywhere. As far as the eye could see. It was as if the mountain had an ocean of gold coins and precious jewels residing in it. Walking through it was not going to be easy.’_ )

One by one the teams and their players were introduced, until each player was hovering in the center on their brooms, waiting for the start whistle.

She had never seen Quidditch like this before. This game had a new level of intensity that Harry had never thought possible before. The speed was amazing, the violence was another thing she was not used to (playing at school meant that the sport had to be much safer) and the dirty tricks the teams used (Bulgaria and their Veela) were all but unknown to Harry.

Harry tried looking for the snitch from time to time (a habit from being a Seeker herself) but found herself looking back to the players more. They were incredible! And Harry was learning a lot (she was definitely going to try out that Wronski Feint once she could ride her broom…and once Billa wasn’t around) which was a good thing and Billa should be proud of her! She was always tell Harry to study more!

Ireland kept scoring. Penalties were made. Fights broke out between the Leprechauns and the Veela on more than one occasion (‘That, children, is why you should never go for looks alone!’ Mr. Weasley yelled as the beautiful Veela transformed hideous and scaly bird-like creatures.). And then Krum got a Bludger to the face.

Harry grabbed at her own nose, feeling phantom pains.

Couldn’t anyone see that Krum-probably the most interesting player on the field-was hurt? Did nobody care? Even Krum didn’t seem to notice as blood ran from his nose, dripping from his face as he flew. Maybe that was why his large nose had such a distinct shape to it. When he got smashed in the face, no one stopped the game to help him. How often did this sort of thing happen, Harry had to wonder.

And then Krum grabbed the snitch, holding it triumphantly over his head for all to see.

The final score? Bulgaria 160, Ireland 170.

Billa sent and incredulous look to the Weasley twins.

*

Back at their tents-and boy, that had been a mess getting there-the group had cocoa as they ran about, shouting and reenacting that match.

They were sent to bed when Ginny nearly fell asleep at the table.

*

What was it with Weasley and not getting sleep? It felt as if they had just placed their heads upon their pillows when suddenly Mr. Weasley was in their tent yelling at them to get up.

There was still noise outside, though it was not the same, cheerful singing and laughing that had lulled them to sleep. This noise was different. Screams of terror and trampling feet. What on earth…?

Billa went to grab her clothes. “No time to change Billa, just grab a jacket and get outside!” They did not need to be told twice.

*

Almost one hundred thousand people were running from the campsite. Behind them was a small group of masked figures shooting spells that sounded almost like gunfire. Harry did not doubt that they were just as dangerous, if not more so.

Billa gasped. Looking at her sister, Harry followed her line of sight until she saw people floating in the air, their bodies being forcefully contorted into positions that were not humanly possible. The masked people laughed. _Laughed_.

“Oh sweet Merlin.” Someone gasped, sounding like they were ready to vomit.

“That’s sick,” Ron hissed. “That’s really sick.”

Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasley ran out fully dressed and wands brandished. “We’re going to help.” Mr. Weasley told them. “Get into the woods and stick together-I’ll come and get you once we’ve sorted this out! Go!”

On any other occasion, Fred and George would take no small amount of pleasure in ‘being in charge of the wittle babies’. Not this time. Their normally cheery faces were grim as they ushered their friends away. They did not look back until they reached the tree line.

There were more masked figures than before, and more innocent people being tortured. Some looked far smaller than the rest-Harry nearly threw up.

People were still screaming from within the trees. Children were crying. Panicked people of all ages were running, pushing them back and forth and out of their way and into someone else’s as they tried to escape.

*

They found Draco. The Slytherin boy was far too calm given the chaos that was happening around him. He was leaning against a tree, one leg propped up against it and arms crossed at his chest. He seemed to be watching everything that was going on around him as if it were nothing more than a program on the television. He smirked when he saw them.

“You lot might want to hurry up, you wouldn’t want them to find Granger would you? Although, I suppose it would provide a little entertainment.” He continued to say disgusting things about their muggleborn friend. Very rude things that should not be repeated in polite company.

And Billa, dear sweet Billa, marched up to the boy and grabbed him by the collar. “How dare you, Malfoy!” She whipped out her wand, digging its tip into the soft flesh under Draco’s chin. “Do not test me. I’ve had it with your disgusting remarks! Give me one good reason not to blast you into next week!”

Draco, as they knew, was all bark and no bite. He could talk a big game, but the moment he was placed in a real situation, he turned into a blubbering mess. “P-Please!”

“Billa,” Harry yelled. “He’s not worth the trouble. Come on, let’s get out of here! Think of Hermione!” Billa seemed to think it over, and then sent Draco backwards with enough force to smack his head against the tree.

*

“Where are Fred and George?”

“They couldn’t have gone far”

“I hope Ginny is with them.”

“Bils, I can’t find my wand!”

“It’s probably in the tent, we can share mine if we need to!”

*

Their friends were still missing. Even as the crowd of people thinned into nothingness and the shouting muted to the deafening roar of silence they could not find the three redheads.

“Should we send a patronus?” Billa wondered aloud.

“I don’t know.” Hermione replied, pinching the dark skin of her nose. “I don’t know how well that would end for us. Ugh. This whole thing is just madness-who would have the audacity to try something like this…and when there are so many ministry officials here-” Hermione stopped. Her dark curls bounced as she turned to look at something behind her.

“Hermione?”

“Shh!”

The other three quieted, trying to hear what the other girl had.

It did not take long. Not too far off there was the sound of footsteps. They were uneven though not rushed like everyone else’s had been.

“Hello?” Billa called out. The footsteps stopped.

“Who’s there?” Harry shouted. When there was no reply the four peered around the trees, trying to see who was walking around.

There was someone a little ways off, but as it was too dark they could not make out any features. They were alone, though.

“What are you wee things doing out here?” A deep, thickly accented voice asked from behind them. The fourth years jumped in fright.

Behind them was a tall, hulking mass of a man. He was easily the second tallest man they had seen (Hagrid of course being the tallest), bald with several geometric tattoos in place of hair and a thick, short beard at his chin. He would have looked terrifying had he not been shooting them such concerned looks.

“Are you hurt?” He continued.

The students shook their heads. “N-no. But there’s someone out there who might be.” Harry responded.

No sooner had the words left her mouth was there a raspy shout behind them.

“MORSMORDRE!”

The sky erupted in bright flashes of emerald-not unlike the way the leprechauns were revealed earlier that day. The screams started again, louder than before.

“…You lot need to get out of here.” The bald man urged.

“But what is that?” Harry asked as she looked for the person who had cast the spell. They were gone.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Har.” Billa whispered. The twins stared up at the glowing mark in the sky. It was a skull, like a green constellation of stars, with a snake slithering out of its mouth and coiling around its body.

Harry blinked slowly. “The Dark Mark?”

“You-Know-Who’s symbol-HEY!” The bald man grabbed the twins’ upper arms and pulled them back.

“Do you _ever_ do as you’re told?!” He growled. “You need to leave!”

However, they would not be leaving. Over twenty wizards appeared in a circle around them. And each and every one of them had their wands out and pointed at the five in the center of the circle.

“DUCK!” Harry yelled. The bald man pulled the four young wizards close to his body, hunching to protect them as much as possible.

“STUPEFY!” Almost all the new wizards shouted.

Thought they could not see, the spells that were aimed at them were all blocked by shield charms.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and this happens!” A new voice, low and amused, said from somewhere to their left.

The bald man makes a noise that could be either a growl or a laugh. “Piss off!”

“I’m just sayin’! If it was the other way around you’d be laughin’ your ass off.”

“Can you two stop flirting for two seconds? In case you haven’t noticed there are wizards shooting at _CHILDREN_.” Another voice in the same thick accent as the bald man said from their other side.

“Stop- _STOP_ THAT’S MY SON! STOP!” Mr. Weasley broke through the circle of wizards with a furious look on his face. His wand was pointed at the center of their huddle. “Children! Are you alright?” His voice was shaky, and when he tried stepping closer the two unknown wizards blocked his path. “What-?”

“Out of the way!” Crouch shouted angrily. The bald man finally released them and they could see that they were surrounded by _Ministry Officials_. They had been attacked by trained professionals (and what did it say about them, going around and attacking children? What did it say about them that even without the help the received little-to-none of the spells that had been fired would have hit their mark?)

“No.” Said the strange wizard with the short, dark hair.

Crouch’s face purples in anger (almost like Uncle Vernon. Great, there was another one loose in society). “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know who you think you are-but it has apparently escaped your notice that the Dark Mark has been cast! And these _criminals_ were caught at the scene of the crime!”

The blond man took a deep breath, and spoke with an unnerving calmness. “I am Prince Frerin, of the Great Kingdom of Erebor. And it has apparently escaped _your_ notice, ‘sir’, that these ‘criminals’ are just _children_.” Mr. Crouch manages to look indignant and terrified all at once. Harry and Billa were too busy staring at the man-no _Prince_ -who had come to their aid. He was stiff, prepared to fight if it came down to it (and they had no doubts that he would).

“’Sides, what _evidence_ do you have against them? If you go around accusin’ people of bein’ guilty of somethin’ simply because they’re _there_ -no evidence, no _interrogation_ \- then I fear for England’s Judicial System.” The other wizard (the one with the long, red braid) said in an almost bored tone. “I wonder how many criminals have been given sentences because of this practice?” Though they can’t see the wizard’s face, Billa and Harry are certain that there’s a malicious smirk on their lips.

Mr. Crouch stutters in anger. “ _Fine_. Are you four responsible for the Dark Mark?” He hissed.

Harry pushed past the wizards in front of her to look Crouch straight in the eye. She gave him a cold look. “No.” She said, without any trace of a lie (and she was quite proud of her voice for not wavering; her heart was still racing and her legs felt like they were going to give out).

“Of co _urse_ you aren’t! That’s what the person responsible would say!” Well…he wasn’t wrong? No one would just admit to being guilty.

Billa stepped forward to her sister’s side. “We aren’t responsible for the Mark, but we saw it being cast.” She says.

“Where?” Mister Weasley asked quickly.

Hermione lifts a shaking hand to the area the mysterious figure had been. “O-Over there. There was someone-they shouted words…an incantation…”

“Oh, stood over there did they?” Crouch asked in disbelief. “An incantation you say? You seem well informed about how the Mark is summoned, Missy-”

“Is this idiot fuckin’ serious?” The redhead wizard pseudo-whispered.

But none of the other wizards heard them-or if they did they didn’t care. They had their wands pointed to where Hermione had showed them. The next few minutes were tense as the Wizards decided their next course of action-which was ‘let’s go out into the dark woods where a criminal had just been because one of our wayward spells _might_ have got them’.

Harry was starting to fear for the safety of the wizarding community.

No one moved (except for Crouch, who was still blabbering on about how he was certain that the teenagers were guilty) until Amos Diggory called out that he found someone.

Crouch stopped. “You did? Who? Who is it?”

Amos Diggory reemerged in a rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs. In his arms was a being too tiny to be human. It was Winky. Harry recognized the poor house-elf from the Cup.

Crouch was frozen. The other Ministry wizards stared at him.

“No….no I-it cannot be!” Crouch strode to his frozen elf. Amos Diggory went back to the woods where he found her, announcing that there was no one else there. Crouch didn’t believe him, going off on his own to search the woods.

“A bit embarrassing, really.” Mr. Diggory said as he came back to the group. “Barty Crouch’s House Elf summoning the Dark Mark…”

“Sweet Merlin Amos, you don’t really think that a House Elf summoned the Mark, do you? She’d need a wand first!”

“She _had_ a wand, Arthur.”

“ _What?_ ” Mr. Diggory lifted the wand to show the group. “It was in her hand.”

The redheaded wizard (not Mr. Weasley) let out a dark chuckle. “My my. That’s breaking clause three of the Code of Wand Use. ‘ _No magical creature is permitted to carry or use a wand_ ’ why, you could say that it’s a _criminal_ offense.”

“Shut up Nori.” The bald wizard replied.

Any further attempt at an argument was stopped when Ludo Bagman (a wizard hey had met earlier in the day) appeared with a soft _pop_. He looked breathless and sick as he gawked at the bright green mark in the sky. “Who did this? Did you catch them?” He asked.

Crouch returned, twitching and pale and unsurprisingly empty-handed.

“Barty! Where have you been? You weren’t at the match! Your house elf was saving your seat and-gulping gargoyles! What _happened_ to her?!” Bagman had apparently just noticed the still figure at his feet (odd since he had nearly stepped on her).  

“I’ve been busy. And she’s been stunned.”

“Stunned? But why-?” realization hit Bagman’s face and he stared in horror at Winky. “Your elf conjured the Dark Mark?!”

The redhead wizard-Nori-let out a muffled groan. “Oh Mahal, we’re surrounded by idiots!” They were ignored.

They went in a circle again. Ludo asking about a wand, and Mr. Diggory saying that he found her with one in her hand, and Crouch refusing to believe she was guilty. It got to the point where Prince Frerin shouted at them to just ask the Elf herself, casting a quick _ennervate_ on the elf. (He got a nasty look for that, which he ignored.)

Winky stirred, waking slowly. She blinked several time in a way that Crookshanks did. She caught sight of the surrounding wizards and started shaking. Trailing her eyes up the closest wizard (Mr. Diggory) and going up still until her large eyes found the Mark in the sky. She shook harder. Harry could see the Mark reflected in her eyes, glassy with oncoming tears. Winky looked around wildly, searching for someone who was not there, and then the tears sprung free.

“Elf! Do you know who I am?” Mr. Diggory practically hissed. “I am a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!” Winky, poor Winky, cried harder. She wrapped her thin arms around her legs and rocked herself back and forth. It reminded Harry of Dobby.

Billa, it seemed, thought the same. She marched to Winky, shielding her from the wizard. She gave him a dark look. “St _op_!”

( _Billa stands protectively in front of the man with salt and pepper hair, protecting him from the oncoming attack as he lays motionless on the ground._ )

“Billa,” Mr. Weasley started. “This is a serious matter, dear. Please step away and let Amos do his job.”

For the first time since they had been introduced to the Weasley family, Billa directed her look of anger and disgust to Mr. Weasley. “No. She’s terrified! Look at her! Is _this_ what his job is? To terrorize poor, innocent creatures?”

(She had faced down a dragon-in their dreams anyway; Billa wouldn’t allow herself to fear these… _bullies_.)

“The disrespect-” Crouch hissed.

“Billa, please step away-”

“A child could never understand anyway-”

Harry had had enough. She stepped to her sister’s side and gave the adults (except Nori, Frerin, and the bald man) a cold, calculating look. “She’s right. Using fear to get answers you want makes you no better than Voldemort.” Every witch and wizard except Billa flinched at the name. Several of the British wizards cried out in outrage because how _dare_ she say that name! Most of them, especially Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory, paled. Harry would not apologize. “I thought you were better than that.” She sighed in disappointment. “If you want to interrogate her, fine. But let one of these wizards,” she gestured to the three foreigners behind her “do it instead, since they seem to be the only ones who can think rationally.”

“Young Lady, this is a _British_ affair. They have no right-”

“-Then as _British Citizens_ , my sister and I will talk to her.” Billa hissed, leaving no room for arguing. Harry was proud of her sister.

(Then again, this was the girl who dealt with dragons and kings and silver-stealing relatives. She was a tough one…when she wanted to be.)

The twins knelt on either side of the elf, not touching in fear that she might start hurting herself, and leaving enough room for her not to feel trapped. “Winky.” Harry said gently. She searched through her pockets until she found a crumpled, but unused, tissue and she held it out to the crying elf. “Here, take it. Do you remember me and my sister?”

Winky took the tissue with a nod. She wiped at her eyes and nose (though it didn’t help much because she stilled cried). “Yes, I is remembering you Miss Harry Potter and Miss Billa Potter. You is very kind witches. Hard to forget.”

Billa smiled. “Thank you. Winky, someone cast the Dark Mark not too long ago-”

“I is not doing it, Miss Billa Potter!”

“We believe you.” Harry said, holding up her hands to show she was being truthful and to calm the elf. “We saw the Mark being cast, and we know you didn’t do it. We just want to know if you saw who did.”

The little elf shook her head.

“But you were found with a wand! Explain that. Er…please.” Mr. Diggory said; gentler than before, but far from polite. He held up the wand again. For the first time in the dim, green light, Harry got a good look at the mysterious wand.

Oh no.

“Hey! That’s _my_ wand!” She shouted.

_That_ threw Mr. Diggory for a loop. “Y-yours?”

“Yeah! I dropped it a while back.”

“Is that a confession Miss Potter? You threw it aside after casting the Mark?”

Nori let out another quiet ‘oh my god’ in the background.

“What-? _No_! Did you _see_ the amount of people that was running earlier? Did you see the _chaos_?” She understood how Nori was feeling. This was downright ridiculous.

“Amos, think about who you’re talking to. This is _Harry Potter._ Do you really think she’d cast the Dark Mark?” Mr. Weasley asked. He didn’t seem upset by the previous outbursts, but Harry felt a twinge of guilt for how rude they’d been to him. He was a gentle soul. And he was probably terrified.

“Er…no. I seemed to have gotten carried away…my apologies.” Harry nodded once. She pointed to the approximate direction they had come running from earlier.

“I didn’t even drop it there. I lost it before we hit the woods.” Harry looked back at the still crying elf. “Winky, where did you get my wand?” She asked.

“I…is just picking it up Miss Harry Potter! I is not making the Dark Mark! I is not knowing how!”

“It _wasn’t_ her!” Hermione shouted. “Her voice is too high and too squeaky. That isn’t the voice we heard, right?” She looked at her three friends. Billa and Harry nodded. Ron nodded as well.

“She’s right, the voice didn’t sound like and elf’s. It sounded human, like an adult.”

Mr. Diggory sighed. “There’s a simple way to discover what the last spell performed was.” Winky trembled more as Mr. Diggory touched the tip of his wand to Harry’s. “ _Prior Incantato!_ ” he roared.

Out of the tip of Harry’s wand came a gray serpent, a mockery of the one floating above their heads. Mr. Diggory ended the spell before it developed into a miniature Dark Mark. Harry wanted to be sick. Someone used _her_ wand to cause so much fear-to produce Voldemort’s Mark-! If she ever found out who did it…

Things from there went downhill. The stress of the situation making the British adults spew accusations at one another and Winky. Billa and Harry tried shushing the elf, or rubbing her back, but her cries never stopped and she wriggled away from them.

“I is not doing it-I is not doing it!” She kept chanting.

When it became clear that Winky was not the person responsible (which took a lot longer than it should have), the adults finally decided to drop the subject. That did not, however, mean that Winky was going unpunished. She would be given clothes (or so Crouch said).

Finally, _finally_ , they could leave. Mr. Diggory gave Harry back her wand (‘I didn’t _really_ think you were guilty, Miss.’). The Ministry officials dispersed one by one.

For the first time that evening, Harry and Billa get a good look at Prince Frerin and Nori. Prince Frerin (like the bald wizard) had a dark beard that was short and thick. He was rather handsome-square jaw, tall, muscular- and looked to be around Sirius and Remus’s age. His eyes were impossibly blue and surrounded by laugh lines.

Nori looked younger (perhaps closer to Bill and Charlie’s age?) with a far more narrow face. Nori had thick eyebrows and thick sideburns the same color as their hair and was tall and lean (and the reason Harry referred to Nori as they and them instead of he or she was because she simply couldn’t tell if Nori _was_ a man or woman, and Billa would be furious if Harry asked such a rude question-not that she would). They looked dangerous. Something about their silver eyes promised a delivery of a painful death with a smile on their face. But they were giving the teenagers a wide grin, so that meant they were safe…right?

“Uh…Thank you. For coming to help us.” Harry said. Nori stepped closer and ruffled her hair with a chuckle. Yep. Definitely safe.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. We weren’t about to let a bunch of adults attack children.” Frerin said. He placed his right hand at the back of his neck and rolled his head until there was a satisfying (disgusting) pop. He grinned.

“Hey-! We aren’t-”

“You’re a kid in our eyes.”  

_(“How old are you?”_

_“Fifty-one.”_

_“What?! You’re so young!”_

_“We’re MIDDLE AGED.”)_

“Anyway,” Billa cut in. “We never really introduced ourselves. I’m Billa, this is my sister Harry…er Potter. This is Ron Weasley, and this is Hermione Granger.” Billa gestured to each of the younger witches and wizard as she said their names.

Shockingly, there was none of the usual awe that came with the mention of Harry’s name. There were soft smiles, but nothing like they were used to.

Then the three men bowed. They _bowed_ (maybe Billa had been wrong before?) with their eyes trained on the ground at their feet.

“Dwalin-” The bald one said.

“-Nori-”

“-And Frerin-”

“-At your service!”

_(A bald man bowing at the waist, never breaking eye contact. He gives his name, followed by a quick ‘At yer service’._

_Several years passed. The bald man is back. His head has more tattoos and at his side is another man with star-shaped hair. They bow. Their eyes are on the floor. “-At yer service, my ladies.”)_

Billa gave the three men a strange look-one that Harry can’t help but copy. The expressions were gone before the three men looked up again.

“It’s-”

“-Children! Come on. I want to go back to the tent-the others are worried.” Mr. Weasley came up behind the teenagers, placing his hand protectively on Ron’s shoulder. He gave the three foreigners a look. “Gentlemen. Thank you for aiding the children.”

Frerin grinned (was this the same man who had been arguing with Crouch earlier? This man was all smiles without a trace of anger!) “Think nothing of it.”

“It’s our _job_.” Nori added. There was a clear accusation in their tone that Mr. Weasley either ignored, or didn’t pick up on. It was probably the former.

“Yes…well it’s time I get the children back to bed. Say goodbye.”

“Bye…”

“Bye Kiddo, we’ll see you again soon.” Why did that sound like a threat?

*

Hermione and Billa spent the whole walk back to the tents grumbling about the poor treatment of House Elves. Normally, that would be fine-unsurprising even, but at the moment they were all exhausted and so _done_ with everything. Harry just wanted to sleep. Ron wanted to know about the Mark in the sky; no Ron, sleep should come first.

Ron and Harry had their arms slung around each other’s shoulders as they walked, leaning heavily against each other.

“Bloody mental, they are.” Ron whispered. Harry snorted.

*

Many of the tents were ruined-burned or crushed. But it was finally quiet. Harry wasn’t quite sure that that was a good thing. It reminded her too much of the _other_ tents. She didn’t want to think about those right now.

Their tents were miraculously spared. Perhaps a bit singed at the hems, but otherwise they were fine. They didn’t get to check out the rest of the tent though, because the second they were inside the main tent Fred and George swooped in, trapping the fourth years in a tight hug (an ability that they _totally_ got from their mother, but don’t say that to their faces). They heard Mr. Weasley talking to his older sons, explaining what had happened while the teenagers tried to escape the older twins.

It wasn’t until Harry’s wand was mentioned that the older twins pulled away.

“Your wand?” Fred asked.

Harry nodded. “I dropped it, and someone picked it up.” She replied.

Behind them, Percy was arguing with Hermione and Billa about the ‘Proper behavior of a House Elf to someone that important’. Later-much later, after several hours of sleep- Harry would realize how shocking that was because Percy got along better with those two than anyone else.

“Can someone explain what that Mark was?” Ron asked-thankfully ending the other trio’s argument. Hermione snappily told him that it was ‘You-Know-Who’s Mark, I already told you this Ronald!’

“It hasn’t been seen in thirteen years. It’s almost like seeing _him_ again.” Mr. Weasley explained. He sounded drained. “Of course people would panic. He and his followers used to send the Mark into the sky whenever they killed…You’re too young to really understand, but the terror that Mark brings…imagine coming home and seeing that over the house. Imagine what awaits inside…”

Bill, who had been attending to a nasty cut on his arm, let out a curse. “Well, it didn’t help us tonight. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it, the bastards got away before we could unmask any of them.” Mr. Weasley didn’t even bother telling him to watch his language. He must have been exhausted.

“Death Eaters?” Harry asked. “What’s a Death Eater?”

“It’s what You-Know-Who’s supporters called themselves.” Said Bill. “We think that’s who we saw tonight-well, the ones who escaped Azkaban anyway.”

“But what were Voldemort-” Everyone but Billa cringed at the name. “-ah, sorry. What were You-Know-Who’s followers doing to the muggles? What was the point in that?”

“The _point_?” Mr. Weasley let out a hollow laugh. “Harry, that’s what they do for _fun_.” He went on to explain that they had done that before, while You-Know-Who was still around. And how many of the Muggle killings had been for fun.

“Disgusting.” Billa hissed. Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement.

“But if they were Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate? Wouldn’t they be happy to see that Mark?” Ron asked.

Bill let out another loud curse as Charlie (who had finished bandaging the scrapes on his own chest) slathered a disinfectant salve onto his wound. “Charlie you ass-! Ugh, Ron. _Think about it_. If they were Death Eaters, then they worked really hard to stay out of Prison. A lot of them told lies about being forced by You-Know-Who to do the things they did. When he was defeated they denied being involved with him and went back to their lives. If he did come back, do you really think that he’d be pleased with them? I think they’re terrified. And that’s why they ran.”

“So…whoever did this…were they supporting the Death Eaters, or trying to scare them?”

“Your guess is as good as ours Hermione. However…only Death Eaters know how to conjure that Mark. I wouldn’t be surprised if the person who did was a Death Eater at one point-or still is.” Mr. Weasley sighed. “Listen. It’s late. I’m sure your mother’s worried sick about all of this, so we’ll try and get some sleep and then we’ll head home first thing in the morning. Charlie, when you’re done with Bill fix Percy’s nose, please.” With that he walked to his room. They heard his bed groan under his weight and soon his soft snores were heard.

Charlie made quick work of Percy’s nose and soon Percy followed his father’s lead. “So…” The second oldest Weasley child started. “Who wants to build a blanket fort?” Fred and George seemed to answer for everyone. George went into the boys’ rooms to grab whatever he could. Fred went to the Girls’ tent. The two made multiple trips, getting blankets and pillows and even mattresses. Bill and Charlie set up the whole thing, not letting the younger teens help. They expertly made the best fort Harry and Billa had ever seen. It was a tent within a tent, with a cushioned floor and dozens of large pillows and soft blankets (transfigured, of course) lying about.

Bill and Charlie curled up at the opening to their tent. The five younger teens fell into a heap together with Fred and George curled protectively around them. One by one they fell asleep-lulled by the snores of Charlie and Mr. Weasley. Harry, however, did not sleep. Her mind raced as she thought of the past few days. Voldemort’s Mark…waking up with her scar burning…were they connected? What did it mean? Where her other dreams connected? She didn’t think so. It was all so…confusing.

Finally, after almost an hour of thinking, she felt her body slipping to sleep.

She wouldn’t remember much of her dreams the next morning. Only the soft, haunting melody of a song she couldn’t remember the words to.

*

After what seemed like mere moments (again), Mr. Weasley was waking them all up. He and the older three children packed the tents with magic and they were off.

There was a bit of chaos trying to leave-for everyone had the same idea. How would anyone want to stay after last night? However, Mr. Weasley managed to get them a Portkey that took them to Stoatshead Hill with little fuss.

It was a long, quiet walk in the damp pre-dawn air. They were all tired and hungry and still spooked from the previous hours.

The silence was broken by Mrs. Weasley’s cries of ‘Thank Goodness!’ She ran to the group-still in her dressing gown and bedroom slippers-and threw her arms around Mr. Weasley’s neck. “I was so worried!” A copy of the Daily Prophet fell out of her hands. Unsurprisingly, the front page had a large, moving black-and-white picture of the Dark Mark.

Squawks from Fred and George capture Harry’s attention. Apparently their mother had gone from squeezing the air out of their father to _them_.

“Mum-!”

“-You’re strangling us!”

“I _shouted_ at you before you left!” She sobs. “That’s all I’ve been-what if something happened to you and the last time I spoke to you I was _yelling_ at you?!” She sobs harder, practically suffocating the twins as she presses their faces into her shoulder.

Harry’s heart practically shatters.

( _“It’s a token my mother gave me. A promise to return to her.”_

_Three still bodies, covered in blood. She can’t look at them.)_

*

Harry, Billa, Ron and Hermione were in Ron’s room. Harry was explaining how she had woken up the other day with her scar hurting. She explained what happened in the dream-about Voldemort and Wormtail plotting something (to kill her, though she didn’t say that out loud), and how she feared that it was connected to the incident at the Cup.

Ron braced his hands on her shoulders. “It’s just a dream. A nightmare.” He said, though who he was trying to convince with that statement was unclear.

*

The following week saw little of Mr. Weasley and Percy. Both were gone before the residents of the house woke up, and came home long after dinner. Percy usually came home first and complaining about everything. Harry tuned him out most of the time.

One such evening found them all (except Mr. Weasley) in the living room. Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Percy, Bill and Ron were playing chess, Hermione was reading a text book, Billa was writing in one of her special notebooks (the ones that only Harry were allowed to read), Harry was polishing her Firebolt, Charlie was arming himself in fireproof gear, Ginny was mending a book of hers, and Fred and George were bent over some papers, whispering.

“What are you two doing?” their mother asked-putting an end to the argument with Percy.

“Homework.” George replied. R-ight. As if anyone would believe that.

“You’re not writing a new order form for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, are you?”

“Now mum,” Fred said, looking up at her with a pained expression. “If the Hogwarts express crashed tomorrow how would you feel knowing that the last thing we heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”

Everyone laughed, though Billa and Harry saw little humor in it.

*

Packing was not fun. Maybe it was because she was worried about Hedwig, who still had not returned from…wherever Sirius was; or maybe it was the stormy weather; or maybe it was the lack of sleep she’d had the last few nights. Whatever the reason, Harry was miserable as she packed her trunk. She carefully packed the quills and potions ingredients Mrs. Weasley bought while they were away, stacked her textbooks to the side of the trunk, and practically shoved everything else into the remaining space.

Billa, who was to her right, was carefully placing everything in her trunk. She was humming softly as she folded her socks (really? Her sister is a dork).  

Ron made a noise of disgust somewhere behind them.

“ _What_ is _that_ supposed to be!?” He spun around, showing his female friends a long maroon dress (?) with sleeves longer than Ron’s arms. It was velvet it lace at the cuff and collar that looked almost moldy. It honestly looked like it needed a good wash…or two.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley knocked and entered the room with three piles of freshly cleaned clothes. “There you are! Make sure you pack them properly!”

“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress.” Ron said, handing the offending piece to his mother.

She didn’t take it. “Dear, those are for you. They’re dress robes.”

“ _What_?”

“Dress robes!” She repeated. “They were on your list this year!”

Ron stares at the dress robes in horror. His mother rolls her eyes at him. “Honestly-everyone wears them. Look, I even bought Harry and Billa formalwear-with the money I got out for you, your money pouches should be in your trunks by the way-. Show him girls!” Harry’s dress was bottle-green and made from a silky material. It was long, with sleeves that ended around her elbow and a tight (or so she assumed, it did look like it would be snug) bodice that flared out into the skirt. It wasn’t overly fancy or poofy (there was a thin layer under the skirt, but nothing else) and Harry loved it.

Billa’s dress was also floor length, but instead of green, her dress was a shimmery blue with golden flowers embroidered on the ends of her poofy skirt. She had thins straps for sleeves and at her waist a translucent, gold sash that tied in a bow at her back. Billa adored it.

“Well…they’re okay!” Ron grumbled, though it was clear he was jealous of their new clothes. Billa and Harry then felt uncomfortable showing off their new dresses.

“Then you can wear a dress to the formal! I don’t care! Girls just make sure you send me a picture!” Mrs. Weasley turned on her heels and marched out of the room.

*

It was still raining heavily when they went to bed that night. Rain pattered against the roof and wind howled. Ron snored on the other side of the room.

Billa and Harry were wide awake though; softly talking to each other in worried tones about their godfathers. Were they okay? Were they together in Remus’s cottage, or was Sirius out in this weather alone? Was he even in the country? Had they gotten the letters that they had sent throughout the summer? Would they see them at all that year?

Sleep found them late in the night.

Billa dreams of a never ending rainstorm and hanging off a cliff.

Harry dreams of large beasts who howl and chase and thirst for blood.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderfluid Nori is my favorite. I'll go more in depth later in the story and the pronouns I'm going to use are they/them/their until Nori decides otherwise.


	5. Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she wakes she’s crying softly. There is only one word running through her mind:
> 
> Dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: minor character death, anxiety attacks, and a few messy POV changes 
> 
> Also, the response to this has been amazing! I want to thank everyone who has left Kudos and Comments and have bookmarked or subscribed to the story, I truly am glad that you're enjoying this!

Do you know the feeling when your holiday is over and you have to back to school? That gloom that settles and seems to suck out all the fun out of everything? The seven Hogwarts students felt that gloom like a heavy cloud hanging over their heads as they woke mere hours before the Hogwarts express would leave. It didn’t help that the storm seemed to have gotten stronger overnight.

Harry tiredly dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Billa dressed similarly. 

(Hey, they were in for a long train ride! Better to be in comfortable clothes instead of their robes!)

As they ate breakfast in various states of awake-ness, Mr. Weasley had a loud and urgent-sounding conversation with Mr. Diggory via the fireplace. Something about a Mad-Eye and an intruder who wasn’t even there? Whatever that had been about, it meant that Mr. Weasley had to leave early. He said goodbyes and gave ‘good luck’s for the terms and then he vanished.

*

Mad-Eye was apparently a person. Mad-Eye Moody; and he was a great wizard (according to Bill) and a complete nutter (according to George) who was responsible for putting a large portion of the Azkaban prisoners (the ones who _deserved_ to be there, Harry hoped) away. Who was dumb enough to break into his home?

*

After a very long, very uncomfortable taxi drive (yes _taxi_ , that was an experience that neither of the Potter twins wanted to relive, ever.) they were at King’s Cross, slipping through the barriers between platforms nine and ten.

The Hogwarts express was as large and impressive as always. Harry, Billa, Ron and Hermione rushed to find an empty compartment before returning to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie (Percy had to go into work, the tosser. He hadn’t even said goodbye!).

“I might be seeing you sooner than you think.” Charlie said after he hugged Ginny.

“Why?” Fred asked.

“You’ll find out. Just…don’t let Percy know I mentioned it. Its ‘classified information’ until the Ministry says otherwise, and I’ll never hear the end of it from Percy if he finds out.”  

Bill grumbled about wanting to go back to Hogwarts this year, but when he was asked he only shrugged and told them that they were going to have an interesting year. Rude.

Even Mrs. Weasley knew something that they didn’t! She kept saying vague things like behave (although, with Fred and George that wasn’t _too_ strange), and how she was glad that they changed the rules, and how the children were going to want to stay at school during the holidays this year.

_Seriously?_

*

They had been on the train for a whole four and a half minutes (a new record!) before their peace and quiet was disturbed by Draco Malfoy. He was in the hallway, loudly telling anyone who actually bothered to listen that his Father wanted to send him to Durmstrang, but his mother didn’t want him so far away. Did people actually care about what was coming out of his mouth?

Hermione shut the door.

“Good lord he’s annoying.” Billa muttered. Ron snorted out a laugh.

“Is Durmstrang another school?” Harry asked. She wondered if the boy she met at the Cup-Fíli-went there. She certainly hadn’t seen him at Hogwarts before.

Billa made an affirmative hum. “And it’s got a horrible reputation!” Hermione interjected before Billa could speak. “According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe,_ they put a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.”

Ron scratched under his chin. “I think I’ve heard of it…where is it?”

Billa shrugged. “No one knows.”

“Uh…why?” asked Harry.

“Rivalry, mostly. All the magic schools hide their whereabouts, but Durmstrang and Beauxbatons take it more seriously. Apparently they don’t want anyone stealing their secrets.” Hermione explained.

Ron laughed. “Come off it! Durmstrang’s got to be the size of Hogwarts! How do you hide a big castle like that?”

“Hogwarts _is_ hidden. It’s bewitched so if a muggle finds it they see dangerous ruins. Everyone who’s read _Hogwarts, A History_ knows that.” Right. So only Hermione and Billa.

“So it’ll look like a bunch of ruins too?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it just has muggle repelling charms. And to stop wizards from finding it they’ve made it unplottable-(“Come again?”)-honestly Harry. You can enchant buildings to make them impossible to plot on a map…all I know is that the school must be somewhere cold because their uniform has fur caps.”

(Harry and Billa think back to their thirteen companions. They wore a lot of fur because they lived in the mountains. Maybe Durmstrang resided in the mountains somewhere?)

*

At some point, Dean, Seamus, and Neville made their way into their compartment and the group talked about their experience at the Cup (or Neville’s lack thereof). Hermione and Billa got bored of the conversation, opting instead to chat about their homework. Thrilling, right?

And then their peace was disturbed once again by Draco Malfoy. The jerk came into their compartment (uninvited!) and harassed Ron about his dress robes (‘really, these were fashionable in the eighteen nineties!’). And before he left, Draco said some vague things, like Mrs. Weasley and her sons had that morning. Great. So whatever big secret they were in on, Draco knew about it too. But why did that prat think that Harry was entering something?

Ron was in a foul mood for the rest of the train ride.

*

First years, traditionally, travel to the school by crossing the lake with Hagrid (and the poor things had to cross in such terrible weather this year). Second years and above travelled to the school in a hundred horseless carriages.

Except…Billa wasn’t sure that they _were_ horseless. In front of each carriage was a blurry silhouette of a…horse? No, that couldn’t be right. The figures looked like they had _wings_.

What Billa really didn’t understand was why they were so blurry. Unlike her sister, Billa didn’t need glasses. So why were they blurry, when everything else was fine?

She didn’t hear her sister come up to her side until she there was a soft whisper in her ear. “Can you see them too?”

*

Hogwarts was as lively as ever as they took their seats.  The four tables were donned with the usual golden tableware, and hundreds of candles floated under the enchanted ceiling as faux rain came down in sheets and disappearing before it could touch anything.

The group took their seats; Harry next to Ron and Hermione next to Billa.

Nearly-Headless Nick, who was wearing an extra-large ruff, greeted them with a large smile. “Good evening.” Harry didn’t think it was a good evening when her shoes were overflowing with water (and that, sadly, wasn’t a joke) and told him as such. Nick ignored her.

Somewhere down the table Colin Creevy-a boy in the year below them who idolized Harry too much for her to be comfortable with-greeted her and told her about how his younger brother was starting Hogwarts that year and won’t you cross your fingers for him to be in Gryffindor with us, Harry? (Harry didn’t think that she could handle another Creevy boy, but said she’d cross her fingers anyway.)

Looking up at the staff table, Harry noticed that there were a few empty seats. Of course, Hagrid was still bringing in the first years, and McGonagall would be waiting for them, but why did it still seem so empty?

“Where’s the new Defense teacher?” Billa asked. Oh, so that’s why it looked so empty.

After the resignation of their Godfather Remus (who was by far one of the best professors they had ever had, despite his furry little problem) Harry hadn’t given much thought as to who would replace him. And there were no new faces at the Head Table-Merlin, that didn’t mean that Snape was going to teach them, did it?!

However, before she could voice her thought to her friends Ron moaned about being starving.

“You’re always hungry, Ron.” Billa said fondly.

“But this time I could eat a whole hippogriff!” That sounded extremely unpleasant. And extremely possible for Ron.

The doors to the Great Hall opened seconds later. Professor McGonagall walked in leading in a troupe of soaking wet and shivering first years. Harry suddenly felt bad for complaining about being wet before. These poor kids looked as if they had swum across the lake!

After that, the sorting commenced as usual. The sorting hat sang a new song (apparently it sang a new one every year, or so Hermione had said. Harry and Billa had only been to their own sorting before, due to a series of very unfortunate incidents) and students were placed in their houses. Colin’s little brother Dennis was sorted into Gryffindor (joy), but the little boy was more excited that he had _actually_ fallen into the Lake and was saved by the giant squid.

Dumbledore had stood, looking positively garish in bright orange robes, and told them all ‘Tuck in’. At least someone understood that food was more important at the moment.

Before their eyes all of the golden tableware filled with food and drink. Cries of delight and wonder could be heard from the first years, making Harry smile. Once upon a time they had been that innocent. She scooped a large portion of her food onto Ron’s plate, knowing the boy would eat it (although they had spent a good amount of time at the Weasley’s, her stomach was not quite ready for the heavy, rich meals Hogwarts provided).

Billa watched her younger sister sadly. Stale rations of sweets were not enough for growing teenagers. Harry deserved seven meals a day and more.

( _“_ Seven _meals?! But-but you’re so tiny! Where does it_ go _?”_ )

Nick had spent the time talking about Peeves the Poltergeist and how he had almost ruined the feast because he was having a temper tantrum (Harry’s words) and how those poor House-Elves had been caught in the middle of it.

Hermione knocked Billa’s goblet over, the pumpkin juice spilling onto her sister’s robes. “ _What_? There are House-Elves here?!” She asked, horrified. The girl was clearly unconcerned about the juice that Billa was banishing. She didn’t even apologize!

Nick nodded his head. Honestly though, it made sense. The food had to come from somewhere, right? And House-Elves thrived off of this sort of thing (at least that’s what Ron had said). And a school full of hungry teenagers was the perfect place for them. Hermione was the only one who looked truly upset. Even Billa, who had a great deal of compassion for the creatures, was only a little perturbed by the information.

“They’re happy right?” She had said. “They aren’t getting abused or being forced to do something they don’t want to…Sure, I wish they were getting paid, but this is probably the best place for them ‘Mione.”

Hermione didn’t eat after that.

*

It was only after all of the dishes had been cleared (and nearly polished due to some of the more enthusiastic students like Ron) that Dumbledore stood. The Hall fell silent immediately.

He gave his usual speech, many products that had been created by Fred and George were banned (over four hundred items were banned, but Harry had no doubt that the twins had created a large portion of them); the Forbidden Forest was banned; Hogsmeade was banned for the younger years. And then came the truly devastating news: No quidditch. Harry, along with the rest of her teammates, was devastated. She had been planning so many new tricks, and had been looking forward to using her new broom that Sirius had gotten her! Not fair!

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October that will continue through the year and take up most of your professors’ time and energy. However, I have no doubt that you’ll all enjoy it, for this year Hogwarts will-”

The Headmaster was cut off by the Hall doors slamming open. A man was there, short and broad, wearing a dark travelling cloak and leaning heavily on his staff. He removed the hood. Lightening flashed on the ceiling. From what Harry could see, every inch of the man’s face was covered in scars-more than Remus’s face. His mouth looked more like someone had cut a crude line with a jagged knife and his nose even had a piece missing!

Another flash of lightening and the man was walking through the hall to the Head Table. With every other step the man took there was a hollow _thud_. Lightening flashed again and Harry saw the man’s eyes with more clarity.

Eyes, however, was a generous term. Though the man had one small, dark eye, he had another that was huge. It was electric blue, _protruding_ from the socket, and whizzing about in every direction of the Hall (including behind) as if by its own accord.

The man reached Dumbledore, shook his hand, and had a quiet conversation before taking a seat at the Head Table and eating a plate of potatoes and sausage in the most paranoid manner that Harry had ever seen.  

“May I present your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Moody.” No one but Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped. Awkward. Their new professor didn’t take offense though. He had nodded once and then went back to sniffing the food on his fork.

Moody…as in _Mad Eye Moody_ , the paranoid auror that Mister Weasley had gone to see that morning? _He_ was the new defense teacher?!

The man in question grabbed a flask from his hip and took a large gulp from it (“He’s not _drinking_ is he?” Billa hissed). The hem of his robes lifted slightly, and Harry could see a wooden, clawed foot next to his booted one. Oh, so that’s what had made the thunking noise.

What had _happened_ to the man?

“As I was saying before,” Professor Dumbledore continued as if he _hadn’t_ just been interrupted by the arrival of the new professor. The students, for once, ignored him. After all, it wasn’t every day one of the most famous (and completely batty) aurors, retired or not, was introduced as your Defense teacher. Or, it could have been that the man was a _tad_ on the scary-looking side and the students were a bit…shocked. “Hogwarts has the honor of hosting a very exciting event this year-one that hasn’t been held in over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that this year Hogwarts will be hosting The Triwizard Tournament.” _That_ certainly got attention back to him.

“ _What_?!” Fred yelled. “You’re joking!”

Students from all over the Hall giggled. Even Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. “I assure you I am not joking, Mister Weasley. Now, while some of you do know what is involved in the tournament, I must ask you to forgive me while I give a brief overview to those who do not.

“The Triwizard Tournament was established around seven hundred years ago…” The headmaster went on to describe the tournament. It was a competition between three major wizardry schools: Hogwarts (of course), Beauxbatons Academy from France, and Durmstrang from somewhere-maybe-in-a-mountain-range. One champion would be selected from each school and would compete in three magical tasks-varying every Tournament so the champions would have to truly test themselves. It was held at a different school every five years, and it was a great way to form international bonds with other young witches and wizards-if one could overlook the extremely high death toll (which was the Tournament ended in the first place).

For some strange and twisted reason, the Ministry had decided that it was finally time to reestablish the Tournament-with less of a chance at death this time. What a comforting afterthought.

“The heads of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang will be arriving in October with a select group of students; as well as special delegations from the Kingdoms of Erebor and the Greenwood. Those from the visiting Kingdoms will not be competing; Kings Thráin and Oropher have shown interest in the Tournament and are sending their delegates to observe. We will, of course, be well behaved and accommodating to those visiting.” Here the headmaster sent a meaningful look to the Weasley twins. They grinned back.

“No, where was I? Oh yes. On Halloween the three champions will be chosen, those who are most worthy to compete. The winner shall receive the Triwizard Cup, one thousand galleons, and eternal glory.”

Fred, along with many others, loudly proclaimed that they were going to enter the tournament (Not that Harry or Billa would let the twins enter, they’d kill them before they had the chance-which was a kinder fate than what would happen if Mrs. Weasley got her hands on them). Their hopes were quickly dashed when Dumbledore explained that the Ministry and the other two Headmasters agreed that there would be an age restriction for students (good). Only students of age-seventeen-were allowed to enter. This statement unsurprisingly caused a cacophony of shouts from angry students. But really, it was for the best. Harry had let out a silent breath of relief at the announcement. Hopefully this year would be a quiet one for her.

Why did she still feel uneasy?

*

Dinner ended not long after and the students were dismissed to bed. Fred and George and Ron had spent the walk to the tower scheming and speculating how to best Dumbledore and actually enter the competition-with several remarks from Hermione.

Harry and Billa fell far behind-not that their friends noticed-talking quietly to each other. Neither were particularly concerned with the tournament after hearing about the age restriction in place (though Harry still thought it would pretty darn cool to bring eternal glory to Hogwarts, not that she needed or _wanted_ any more fame). The twins were more interested in the delegations from the two kingdoms. The Greenwood. _Erebor_.

( _Sick, sick, sick. Everything felt sick. The trees, the earth, the air…couldn’t their companions feel it?_

 _“Welcome, my sister-sons, to the great kingdom of -.”_ )

“Do you think Nori and the others will be part of the Delegation from Erebor?” Harry asked.

“Probably. Nori _did_ say that we’d see them again soon. I wonder who else we’ll meet.”

Harry wondered-not for the first time- if Fíli would be coming to Hogwarts as well. It would be nice to see him again. Because he was _nice_ and Harry wanted to make sure that he had gotten out of the Cup safely. Yes. That was it. No other reason.  

On their way to the tower, after walking up one staircase, they were interrupted by a small Ravenclaw girl with long pale hair.

(Though, everything about the girl was pale; pale hair, pale eyes, pale skin. She reminded the Potter twins of the tall people from their dreams.)

“Hello.” The girl said in a dreamy voice.

“Er…Hi.” Harry replied. Who was this girl?

As if reading her mind, and Harry seriously hoped that she couldn’t, the girl smiled. “I’m Luna Lovegood.”

“Billa, and this is my sister Harry.”

The little girl nodded. “I know who you are Miss Baggins. (“-My name isn’t-”) You’re having a hard time waking up, aren’t you?” What? Was this girl _nuts_? What did she mean by _that_?! “That’s alright. Don’t fear your dreams; hold onto them and cherish the good ones. It will take some of the pain from the bad ones. Things will make sense once you reach the end. Oh-I need to go to my dormitory now! I’ll see you later! And Harry, wear the hair clasp, he’ll love it.” And with that the little Ravenclaw seemed to just vanish.

“What just happened?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. What did she mean about ‘the hair clasp’?” Oops. She may have forgotten to mention the mysterious hair accessory to her sister. Merlin, she was in for a _long_ conversation.

They pushed aside her comment about the dreams. Later, Luna Lovegood would be found and tell them how she knew about those dreams. Of that, Harry was sure.

*

“Did it ever occur to you that the thing might be _cursed_?”

“Of course it did! Why do you think I haven’t been wearing it?!”

“Why do you still have it then?!”

“Because it reminds me of _them_! It…it reminds me of _him_.”

“Harry-”

“I don’t think it’s cursed, Bils.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s a…feeling I have. You know how rarely these feelings are wrong.”

“I’m still checking it for curses.”

“Of course you are.”

*

There were, of course, no malicious curses or enchantments on the clasp. There were, however, several protection charms in place. Curious.

*

By morning the storm had dissipated. Harry, much to her sister’s chagrin, had fastened the clasp in her wild locks. It felt as if it belonged there. Why hadn’t Harry invested in one of these before?

(Their companions were onto something. Clasps like this were a fantastic way to keep her curls in a state that could be called tame. Perhaps she should start braiding her hair too.)  

When Ron and Hermione questioned her about it, she had smiled and told them that she bought it at the World Cup from a foreign stand. Ron had accepted the answer and focused on his very important mission of stuffing his face with enough food for an army. Hermione hadn’t been convinced (it didn’t help that Billa had grumbled about it-honestly! I was just a hair accessory!) but didn’t press further.

They had gotten their schedules (outside all morning, thank Merlin. The twins _loved_ being outside. Though, Harry would have loved to be rid of double divination more.), and the Hall had been filled with birds and owls for the daily mail delivery. Hedwig was not one of them.

The twins felt their hearts sink. Why wasn’t Sirius responding? Was he not safe? How far away was he? When were they going to get something- _anything_!-that would tell them he was okay?

*

Herbology was a breeze for the girls. All they had to do was squeeze the pus from bubotubers, which smelled absolutely _vile._ Simple really. And many students were squeezing the plants _wrong_! Couldn’t they sense that the best way to extract the pus wasn’t by simply popping the pus-filled bubbles, but to hold the plant, cut a small hole at one end of the protrusions and to press firmly with their nail and drag it down the entire length of the pus-bag. It was disgusting-obviously-and hard because the damn plant wouldn’t stay still, but it yielded the best results. Needless to say, the Potter twins collected the most pus and were awarded five points for their understanding of the ‘effective method’. Ron wouldn’t stop teasing them about being the best pus-collectors. Jerk.

*

Care of Magical Creatures was next. And while Harry and Billa cared deeply for their half-giant friend, they were concerned for him from time to time. Really, only he would find joy in raising a slug-like creature that _exploded_.

“I think yours likes you, Bils. Have you thought of a name yet? Perhaps Myrtle?” Harry asked with a grin.

Billa did not find it funny. Her skrewt had found her hand fascinating and wouldn’t stop trying to suck her palms. “How about you shut up?”

*

Divination was as boring as ever. The most interesting thing that happened was Professor Trelawney telling Billa that she could see her end on a boat, and to stay away from them at all costs (Billa had an extreme fear of water. She wouldn’t be going on a boat anytime soon, thank you very much!); followed by a look to Harry.

“I see difficult times ahead of you, alas. Most difficult…I fear the thing you dread will come to pass…and perhaps sooner than you think.”

Harry’s mood had soured after that.

*

It seemed that her day was destined to get worse. On their way to dinner, in the Entrance Hall, Draco had yelled at Ron to get his attention, and then proceeded to read a Daily Prophet article about his father loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

The article was undoubtedly about Mr. Weasley, even if they had gotten his first name wrong.  It was about the morning before when he had left to help Professor Moody. Policemen were involved, and dustbins; and several slanderous comments were said about him being an embarrassment and questioning his involvement in the event. Draco had found it utterly hilarious.

“-And this picture! Is this your mother? She could do with losing a bit of weight, don’t you think?”

Everyone in the hall stared at Ron. He was shaking so much that Harry and Hermione had to grab his arms, fearing that he would wind up doing something stupid.

“Sod off, Malfoy!” Billa yelled, angry that he had insulted their mother figure.

“Oh that’s right, you two stayed at their hovel over the summer, didn’t you Potter? Tell me, is his mother really this fat or is it just the picture?”

Harry hissed as Ron struggled against their grip. “I don’t know Malfoy; does _your_ mother always look like she’s got dung under her nose? Or is it just when she’s around you?” Normally, Harry wouldn’t _dare_ insult someone’s mum; not when one of hers had died protecting her and Billa from Voldemort and the other had died of a broken heart after the death of their Da. And she knew she’d get an earful from Billa about it later, but Draco just made her so angry!

“Don’t you dare insult my Mother, Potter!”

“Don’t open your mouth then.” Harry said with a slight shrug.

“Don’t insult other people’s mothers if you don’t want yours to be insulted in return.” Billa followed. Oh good, maybe Harry wasn’t in as much trouble as she thought. How did that saying go…an eye for an eye?

Draco had his wand out and shouted a spell so fast that neither girl could properly make out what he had said. But the spell had brushed past Harry, barely missing her shoulder, and collided with the wall behind them with a loud bang.

Harry let go of Ron to reach for her wand, but before she touched the holly stick there was a shout of ‘OH NO YOU DON’T LADDIE’ and with another loud noise Draco was replaced by a floating…ferret?

Professor Moody limped down the staircase, wand pointed at the ferret. The hall was silent. The only one who moved or made any sound was Moody. He turned to look at Harry (with his normal eye, the other was rolled into the back of his head).

“Did he get you, lass?”

Harry shook her head. “No, it missed.”

“STEP AWAY!” Moody spun to the ferret before Harry could ask what he meant. One of Malfoy’s goons-Crabbe-had stilled in the middle of reaching for the ferret. Could his eye see through his skull?!

Moody walked towards them, his prosthetic leg making ominous _thunks_. “I don’t like it people who attack when their opponents back are turned.” He bounced the ferret, let it smack against the floor, and repeated, lifting it higher. The poor thing (Draco, Harry’s mind supplied) squealed in pain. “It’s a cowardly, spineless thing to do. Never. Do. That. Again.”

“Professor Moody!” Billa and Professor McGonagall yelled at the same time. Their head of house stood halfway down the stairs, arms full of books.

“Hullo Professor McGonagall.” Moody said without taking his eye off the still bouncing ferret.

“Professor please stop!” Billa cried, making her way to the distressed animal (Draco).

“What on earth are you doing?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Teaching.”

“Moody, is that a _student_?” The books that she had been carrying fell to the floor.

“Yes.”

Billa caught Draco-the-Ferret before he could smack into the ground again. She was only marginally surprised when he tried biting her fingers to get free, but she didn’t drop him. She ran her hand down his back and surprisingly, the ferret stopped fighting her. 

“Moody no!” McGonagall rushed down the steps. “Potter put them down!” Billa did as she was told. There was a loud snap and Draco-the-ferret was replaced by Draco-the-prat, face flushed and his immaculate hair a mess. He struggled to stand, smacking Billa’s hand away when she offered to help. “We never use transfiguration as punishment-we give detentions and speak with the student’s Head of House. Surely Dumbledore told you this!”

“He may have mentioned it. Fine, I’ll do that then.” He said, staring at Draco with a dark look.

Draco stared back, eyes watering as he tried to stand up straight (Merlin, how much pain was he in?), muttering something that sounded like ‘my father-hear ‘bout this’. Not surprising, really. Lucius Malfoy seemed to hear about everything that happened to his son.

Moody limped forward, grasping Malfoy’s arm. “You can tell your father that Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son-now let’s go find Snape. I’ve been meaning to have a chat with him…come on!” Moody grouched, dragging Draco in the direction of the dungeon under the watchful gaze of Professor McGonagall.

As they sat at the Gryffindor table for dinner Ron demanded silence so he could savor the memory of Draco the bouncing ferret. Hermione laughed. Harry didn’t find it quite so funny-yes Draco was a prat but what Moody had done could have seriously hurt him!-and she especially didn’t find it funny while her sister had a white-knuckle grip on her fork and knife.

“I’m glad Professor McGonagall stopped it, Malfoy could have been hurt.” Hermione said, earning a ‘you’re ruining the best moment of my life, Hermione!’ from Ron. She huffed, inhaled her dinner in under five minutes and ran off to the library only to be replaced by the Weasley twin and their friend, Lee Jordan. The older three spent the rest of dinner praising Moody and their lesson with him. Ron complained that they didn’t have him until Thursday.

That was too soon in Billa’s opinion.

“Are you okay?” Harry whispered to her sister while the boys were deep in conversation.

Billa shook her head. “He was in so much pain, Har. I heard it. What was Moody _thinking_? Any higher and Malfoy’s ribs could have-” She broke off, staring at her plate. Draco had been turned into a small creature, completely at the mercy of their larger, _stronger_ teacher.

( _Cold eyes bore into hers as she was dangled off the side of the mountain. Only the hand around her neck kept her from falling._

_“Traitor, thief, harlot”_

_She was going to die.)_

Harry rubbed her sister’s shoulder.

*

Thursday’s defense class came without any major incidents. Many of their classmates chatted excitedly as they made their way to their seats. Billa and Harry were in the minority of students who were nervous about the class. They sat next to each other, books on their desks.

“If he transfigures one student, I’m leaving.” Billa promised. Harry didn’t blame her.

Soon the chatter died as Moody’s unmistakable footsteps were heard down the hall. Their teacher walked into the classroom looking as imposing and scary as usual. He snarled when he saw the books, telling the class to put them away because they wouldn’t need them. Hermione looked horrified.

A class without books couldn’t be _that_ bad, right?

He walked to the class, took roll-call, and then announced that their lesson was going to be about curses-because even though Remus was a great teacher, their focus last year had been geared towards creatures, so their knowledge of spells and curses was lacking-and he only had a year to get them up to snuff.

“According to the Ministry, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and that’s it. You’re not supposed to know what a Dark curse looks like until sixth year. But Dumbledore says otherwise. Thinks you lot can handle it-I agree. Its better you learn now. The sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself from something you’ve never seen? No wizard in their right mind is going to go: ‘Hullo, I’m going to use this spell on you now’ before they curse you. You need to be alert and watchful and you _need_ to know. And you need to put that away while I’m talking, Miss Brown.” Looking back, Harry saw Lavender blush and she shoved her divination homework into her bag-apparently she had been showing it to Parvati. So Moody’s eye could see through solid wood too? Was there anything it couldn’t see through? ( _That_ was actually a disturbing thought that Harry never _ever_ wanted to have again.) “Do you know which curses have the heaviest punishment by wizarding law?”

A handful of hands, including Hermione’s and Billa’s and surprisingly Ron’s, rose hesitantly. Moody chose Ron.

“My dad told me about one. Isn’t it called the Imperious Curse?”

Moody nodded. “Yes, your father _would_ know that one. Gave the ministry lot of trouble once.” He opened a drawer on his desk, pulling out a glass jar with three decently sized black spiders running about inside it. Ron shuddered. Moody took one of the spiders out, holding it so the class could see. He pointed his wand at it. “ _Imperio_ ”

The spider leapt from his hand, doing magnificent acrobatics that should be impossible for a spider. Cart wheels, back flips, _tap_ _dancing_ …everyone was laughing at the spider; everyone but Harry, Billa, Hermione and Neville. Even Moody was laughing!

“What shall I have her do next?” Moody asked with a manic laugh. “Jump out the window?” The spider flew unwillingly to the open window. The laughter stopped. “Drown herself?” The spider flew above a glass of water. Gravely, he revealed the true nature of the spell. “Total control. That’s what this spell gives the caster. Years ago, there were several wizards and witches being controlled by the Imperious Curse. The Ministry was a mess trying to figure out who was and wasn’t cursed.

“The Imperious Curse _can_ be fought, I’ll be teaching you later in the year, but it takes real strength of character. If you don’t have that, then try to _not_ get hit by the curse. Remember: CONSTANT VIGILANCE.” He put the spider back in the jar. “Who knows another Illegal?”

Hermione and Billa’s hands went back up in the air. Shockingly, so did Neville’s. Neville _never_ volunteered unless it was for Herbology. And Moody must have known this because his magical eye shot in Neville’s direction and he called on him in a knowing voice.

“There’s…the Cruciatus Curse.” He answered, voice small.

 “Longbottom, right?” Neville nodded. Moody, satisfied enough with the answer, took out another spider and placed it on his desk, casting _engorgio_ at it because it apparently wasn’t big enough. Many students let out distressed noises at the large spider. Ron even pushed himself away to put more distance between them. Harry and Billa had seen and fought bigger.

( _‘Sting-! It Stings!’_ )

“ _Crucio_.” The spider writhed on the desk. Bending and rolling and twitching and contorting-it was a good thing that the spider was silent. Harry might have thrown up if she had heard the spider’s screams.

“ _STOP IT._ ” Billa yelled. Her sister’s eyes were darting between the spider and Neville, who looked absolutely horrified. His skin had lost its color and his fists were clenched so tight on his desk that his knuckles had gone white.

Moody ended the curse and shrank the spider back to its original size, though it continued to twitch. “Pain.” He said. “The Cruciatus Curse was also very popular once.” Harry had no doubt that he was talking about Voldemort’s reign of terror. These spells sounded like ones he’d use for his twisted version of _fun_. “Tell me, Miss Potter, what’s the last illegal curse.” For a brief moment, Harry thought he had meant _her_. But his eyes-both of them-were trained on Billa.

“ _Avada Kedavra._ The Killing Curse.” She replied in a tight voice.

“Yes. The last and worst of the three.” He reached back into the jar for the last spider. As if it knew what was to come, the spider ran about, trying to get away.

It didn’t. Moody caught it and pinned it to his desk. “ _Avada Kedavra._ ” The light that shot from his wand was green. So very green and familiar that it made Harry’s breath catch in her throat.

The last movement the spider made was a roll onto its back, dead. No marks. Nothing.

“Not nice. Not pleasant. And no way to block it. If you get hit with this one you’re done. There’s only been one person _ever_ to survive the curse, and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

 _Harry_.

She could feel Moody watching her, feel her classmates watching her, but she didn’t- _couldn’t_ -focus. Her eyes were glued to the spider, seeing it but not seeing it at the same time.

 _This_ was how their parents died. Were they unmarked too? Hit by the spell so fast that they didn’t have time to react? Did Bungo ‘James’ Potter suffer at the hand of Voldemort as he protected his wife and daughters? Or did the curse come so silent and quick that the last thing he saw was a green light? What of their mother, Belladonna-Lily Potter? She had shielded them until the end, begging and pleading to Voldemort to just take her and spare the girls-they were just innocent babies!

( _A figure is lovingly covered by a sheet. Their Da had been sick, yes, but he had died surrounded by his beloved wife and daughters. He died peacefully, with a smile._

_Less than a year later their Mama, who was frail and aged well beyond her years, followed. “I love you girls. Be brave my darlings, have courage and be kind. I will see you again, but not for a long time. Do you understand me?”_

_“Yes Mama.” Their Mama smiles, taking her final breath moments later._ )

Her mother’s screams echoed through her head as the memory of her death replayed in her mind (thank you dementors). Over and over she heard her screaming, pleading, tell the twins ‘you are so loved, Mama loves you, Dada loves you, be safe, be strong’ and then screaming again.

Had Harry herself suffered when the curse hit her?  Her head hurt, though that could have been because her nails were digging into her scalp. When had she grabbed her hair? When had she started crying?

The chair next to hers, Billa’s, scratched harshly against the floor, toppling over. Hands slammed against the desk. It was hard focusing on her face, but Harry could see tear streaks on her sister’s cheeks.

“How dare you.” Billa said, glaring at Moody.

( _Billa glaring up at the pale creature with a spear for a hand. Angry; so very angry._ )

It was not Billa Potter’s hazel-green eyes glaring up at their teacher. Those were the eyes of Billa the Burglar, The Luckwearer, The One Who Speaks With Dragons, She that walks unseen; The _Warrior_. 

If Moody took a (miniscule) step back at the look…well Billa would revel in the satisfaction of his reaction later. Preferably when her younger sister _wasn’t_ having an anxiety attack.  

Her voice was muffled, almost as if Harry was listening from underwater. “You want to teach us the curse- _fine_. Tell us the incantation, what it does, what it looks like. But don’t you have the audacity to perform it in this room in front of us-not when Voldemort-” Moody didn’t even flinch at the name. “-used it to murder our parents and tried to murder Harry! What you people seem to forget about this whole Girl-Who-Lived thing is exactly that: _Voldemort was trying to kill her!_ You glorify the attempted murder of an infant and then have the audacity to use the same spell in front of her.” She pointed at Neville, who looked absolutely terrified when her angry gaze shifted to him. “I don’t know your story Nev, but I don’t think it’s a good one either.” She snapped back to Moody. “You _knew_ before you called on him, and yet you made him suffer and watch when he was clearly upset! What you did isn’t going to help-it’s _traumatizing_.” Reaching down, she pried Harry’s hands from her dark curls and helped her to her feet, summoning their bags. “Come on Harry, we’re done for today. Do you want to come too, Neville?” Though she worded it like a question, it was clearly a demand.

The boy nodded, rushing to get his belongings together. He was by their side faster than they had ever seen him move before. He put a hand on Harry’s back, trying to be comforting, not that she felt it. 

“Good Evening, Professor!” Billa led the other two out of the classroom, barely sparing a glance at their stunned teacher.

She brought them to an alcove not too far from the class where a window showed the bright and cheery day outside. It certainly didn’t feel cheery as she maneuvered the two to sit on either side of her on the windowsill, Harry’s head on her shoulder.

“It won’t stop.” Harry hiccups. Tears spilled down her cheeks with renewed vigor. “They won’t stop.” Billa shushes her, running her hand down her sister’s back and humming a song from their dreams. It’s the haunting one with the words that always seem to be on the tip of their tongues and out of reach at the same time. (Once, it had the opposite effect. It kept them up all night and plagued what little sleep they got with nightmares. Now the melody soothes them. Perhaps they _were_ mad. Not that they would ever say it aloud and give their silver-stealing relatives the satisfaction of being right for once.)

Billa wishes, and not for the first time, that Voldemort had attacked _her_ first. That she was the Girl-Who-Lived so her sister wouldn’t suffer so. She hated this. Why did it have to be Harry? Why was her younger sister cursed?

Time passes. Minutes; an hour? Who knows? But Harry does eventually calm, silently staring at the empty corridor in front of them as her sister continues to rub her back.

“She wasn’t always this bad.” Billa says to Neville. He still looked pale and teary eyed. He deserved to know. “Growing up, we were told our parents died in a car crash,” That they were drunken deadbeats she doesn’t say. “First year was hard. Not this bad, but hard. We found out that our parents were _murdered_ and Harry was…I think I made Hagrid wet himself when I started cursing Voldemort-sorry-You-Know-Who. And _don’t_ get me started on the whole philosopher’s stone debacle.

“Second year was…okay. Up until people started accusing her of being the heir of Slytherin, that is. She came to me, crying, asking if she was the reason our parents died.” Those three weeks of detentions she got for hexing anyone who called Harry the heir (besides Fred and George, as they knew Harry too well to take the allegations seriously) were totally worth it.

“But last year… the dementors tried to Kiss us. We both…we both relived the last moments we had with our parents. Our dad was yelling at our Mum to get us to safety. And our Mum-” She breaks off with a quiet sob, unable to continue that part of the story. “I don’t remember it as vividly as she does. Maybe it’s because of the Killing Curse…She hears it all, sees it all over and over and I can’t do a bloody thing to help her!” They fall into silence. The only sound is their breathing and Billa’s hand moving against the fabric of her sister’s robes. “I’m sorry.” She says after a while. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot back there. It was rude.”

The boy shook his head. He gives her a suspiciously wet sounding laugh. “It’s alright. I wanted to run out of there. It was too intense, too stifling.” Billa raised a copper eyebrow, but doesn’t ask for an elaboration. He gives it to her anyway.

“The C-cruciatus Curse,” Neville begins quietly. “My parents, the same night yours…we were attacked. They were tortured with that curse until their minds were destroyed. Aurors came before they could be killed-not that their fate is any better.” He said, bitter. “They’ve been in St. Mungo’s ever since. They tried to fix the damage done to their minds, but after a while the Med-Witches said that there was nothing to be done. Gran and I go and visit from time to time-holidays and whatnot-but they don’t…they can’t…they’re too far gone. Mum…I think she recognizes me, on some level…or maybe I’m trying to make something out of nothing. But every time I visit she gives me a wrapper, just me, and she gives me a big grin. I don’t…what did our parents ever do to deserve their fates?”

Billa reaches for him, pulling him down into their hug and rests her cheek on the top of his head. “I don’t know Nev.”

With a shaky hand, Harry grabs Neville’s, squeezing tightly.

And with that simple act, a new friendship was formed. One formed from similar suffering; the pain of being orphaned. And while Neville was technically not an orphan, he may as well have been.

It was refreshing to not be bombarded with sympathy (falsified or earnest) after revealing their ‘tragic backstory’. Neville understood. Neville had one of his own. He was alone too, and the Potter twins vowed that he wouldn’t be ever again.

The trio stayed like that until the bell rang.

Students filled the corridor in front of them. Their defense classmates, those who saw them in the alcove, sent Billa terrified looks that she countered with a fierce glare. Those who did not see them chattered about the lesson, about how cool it was despite what crazy Potter said, and wasn’t Harry Potter such a dramatic crybaby?

Hermione had ‘accidentally’ knocked Lavender over after that comment.

She and Ron found them hiding in the alcove and ran to them. “Is she…?”

“I’m okay, ‘Mione.” Harry said. _Lie_. Hermione seemed to sense this, as she sent Harry an ‘I don’t know who you think you’re fooling’ look.

“You should have seen the look on Moody’s face after you guys left! I can’t wait to tell Fred and George! Oh man Billa; I think you’re the only person in history to _shock_ Alastor Moody!”

“ _Ronald_!” Hermione hissed.

Ron, remembering why Billa had been so upset at Moody in the first place, flushed. “Uh…sorry.”

The dark skinned girl gave him another glare. “You three missed the notes Professor Moody had us take, you can borrow mine to copy. (“What? Hermione, how come you never let _me_ copy your notes?”) This is a one-time thing Ronald. Don’t whine.”

The odd, distinct thump of Moody’s leg stopped whatever retort Ron had planned. The five watched the Professor come closer to them. Billa glared at him the whole time, _daring_ him to lecture her about her behavior in class.

He doesn’t. When he speaks his voice is deceptively gentle (which sounds so strange coming from the gruff man). He invited Neville to tea-extending the invitation to the Potter twins even though they declined-telling him that he had some books he wanted to give him.

Neville hadn’t wanted to go, and Billa hadn’t wanted him to either. But Moody gave Neville a look that had him squeaking and standing in seconds, offering no more than a quiet ‘I’ll see you later’.

“Potter,” Moody said as he started walking away with Neville. Which Potter he was talking to was unclear. “What happened in class…sorry, but you need to know these things. It’s harsh, yeah, but you need to know. What good is there in pretending?”

*

Billa and Harry were quiet as they made their way to dinner. Ron and Hermione were doing enough talking for the two of them anyway, arguing over something or other.

Sitting at the table (side-by-side today), the twins looked for Neville, but found that the boy wasn’t there. If something happened to him…

“Aw man, why the long faces?” A new voice, thickly accented and followed by muscular arms draping over their shoulders, asked.

A head appeared in between theirs. Long, dark brown hair pulled back into a messy braid-bun, a sharp nose, dark stubble and the beginnings of a dark beard, and big brown eyes. The boy looked unfamiliar and _oh so_ familiar that it hurt.

He looked at the twins like an eager puppy, drinking in as much of their features as he could (weird). “Well?” He asked. One of his thick eyebrows lifted.

“We had a rough class.” Harry answered. She winced at her voice. It was still hoarse from crying.

The boy looked at her, grin slipping into a frown. “I’m sorry.” She was glad he didn’t ask what happened, but did he have to stare at her face so intensely? “Wow, you’re a lot prettier than he said you were.”

Harry wanted to ask him what the hell he meant by that, but Hermione cut her off. “Excuse me, but who are you? You aren’t wearing Hogwarts robes, but you look like you’re our age.”

The boy grinned at her. He stepped back, removing his arms from around them. “That’s because I _don’t_ go here. Forgive me for not introducing myself-I can’t stand to see a sad face- oh man, Amad and my bogginses would have a fit if they knew-” Here he gives the Potters a look that he must have thought was subtle (it wasn’t). He bows. Another one that bowed! Did that mean… “Princess Kíli, daughter of Dís and Vali, of Erebor.” The boy-no, _girl_ -stood and adjusted her blue tunic.

A _Princess_?! First they were saved by Prince Frerin and now a Princess was talking to them because she had noticed they were upset. What on earth had they done to capture the eyes of _royalty_? Was she related to Prince Frerin-well obviously she had to be; they were the Prince and Princess of the same damn kingdom! What of Fíli, their names sounded familiar. Were they related? Harry hoped not, she wouldn’t be able to live with the mortification from almost bowling over a royal.

“Is Prince Frerin your brother?” Harry asked, catching the Princess’s attention again.

“No, he’s my uncle. But I do have a brother. He-” Her eyes flicked up and her lips split into a wicked grin. “ _Oh,_ so _that’s_ where it went. Mahal, he’s going _die_ when he sees-”

“-Wait, if you’re a Princess, why do you have a beard?” Ron asked, earning a smack from Hermione and an unimpressed look from Princess Kíli.

“Because I grew it.” The Princess replies as if she was speaking to someone particularly stupid.

Ron flushed. “But…only boys grow beards.”

“If that caterpillar over your lip is what you call facial hair, then I truly fear for you.” She rubbed her own beard like she was afraid it would magically change to look like Ron’s moustache. “Listen kid (“How can you call me kid?! You look like you’re our age!”) I’m an old soul, even if I’m fourteen.” She laughs. Was that a joke? “Anyway, I’ve been through this a hundred different times with a hundred different people. All you need to know is that I _am_ a Princess, even though it isn’t any of your business what’s in my pants. No, I don’t were dresses. Too airy for my tastes. Trousers are easier to move in anyway. _No_ I don’t wear makeup. Have you ever tried putting on eyeliner or mascara? Those things are torture devices. Any questions? No? Good, go back to your dinner then.” Her hand waves, ushering him back to his plate.

Despite her…interesting rebuttal, neither Harry nor Billa can find it in them to feel sympathetic for their friend. His comment was extremely rude.

“Well said, Namadith.” A new voice said from a few feet away. Well, the voice was new to Billa. Harry was familiar enough with the voice.

Princess Kíli spun around, grinning at the (not-so) newcomer. “Fee! It’s about time you got your butt out of bed!” He was just as blond and stupidly handsome as Harry remembered. His hair and beard were a bit longer, perhaps, and there were intricate braids in his hair now, but he still looked the same. (Something not too deep down was _thrilled_ that Fíli was here. Merlin, they hadn’t talked for more than five minutes! Why was she so excited to see him?!)

“Unlike you, I actually care about my appearance.” Fíli grinned.

“Puh- _lease_. You can’t fool me! I know the _real_ reason for your newfound vanity.” The Princess jerks her head in Harry’s direction. Though she cannot see, Harry’s sure that the wicked smirk from before is there. For the first time since his arrival in the Great Hall, Fíli looked at her His blue eyes widened and he seemed to stop breathing (That was definitely not a good thing, right? Could she get tried for murder if he died from not breathing in her presence?).

“My Lady Harry, we meet again.” He reaches for her, grasping her hand and kissing it like he had done so many weeks ago. “Hopefully I won’t be run over this time.” Mischievous blue eyes look up at her.

Smiling, cheeks turning pink, Harry responded. “I’ll try and give you some warning if I decide to run in your direction.”

“If you’re running in my direction, who says I’ll move out of the way?” Oh that cheeky-!

The Princess made gagging noises in the background, much to Harry’s mortification. She squirmed away from Fíli, or she would have if he would just let go of her hand already!

Her sister, silent and watchful, noticed her discomfort. “You’re both part of the delegation from Erebor, aren’t you? We were told that you wouldn’t be here until October.” The two royals-because it was clear that they were both royalty, despite the blond boy rudely not introducing himself-looked at her with wide grins. (At least Fíli let go of her hand, Harry thought.)

Why, oh _why_ , did those smiles make her think of Fred and George? She couldn’t handle another set of pranksters on top of those two! Hogwarts would surely fall under their tyranny! Perhaps Beauxbatons accepted transfers after the beginning of the term…?

“Well,” The Princess, wrapping her arms loosely around Billa’s shoulders, said. You’d think they were best friends with how affectionate this Princess was! “We were _supposed_ to, but we were just so _excited_ …drove Amad and Adad mental, so Amad had a nice, long chat with our Uncles and Grandad and here we are! Everyone else is recuperating from the trip. They have…what do the muggles call it…? _Jet_ _lag_! Yeah! We’ve been here all day, sleeping-well everyone else was sleeping. Uncle, Fee and I were awake-don’t let him fool you, Uncle, I mean; he’s been really excited and nervous about this trip for _months-_.”

“-Kee, you’re babbling.” That seemed to silence the Princess. Or at least stop the mindless chatter.

“But Fee! I’m so excited! They’re-”

“-Trying to enjoy their meal without their ears being talked off.” Fíli stated with a heavy warning in his tone. There was a loud _click_ of teeth against teeth as the Princess’s mouth snapped closed. She gave the other an ‘I don’t like you and I’ll get you back for this later’ look, the kind that Billa would give Harry when she was dragged into another ‘adventure’.

Billa and Harry stared at the two siblings-for there was no doubt anymore that they weren’t. They knew this. Knew _them_. It was so achingly familiar, squeezing their hearts so tight they wondered if their hearts might burst under the pressure. But where had they seen the two before?

“Sorry but…do we know you?” Billa asked. “You seem so…”

“Familiar.” Harry finished.

The royals grinned. Princess Kíli clapped her hands in delight, saying something about ‘clever bogginses’, whatever that meant. Fíli looked like he wanted to say something, but he was distracted by something on Harry’s…head? The hair clasp?

“You’re…you’re wearing it.” He said, breathy and awed.

Harry shifted in her seat. “Err…yeah. Was I not supposed to? You gave it to me, right?” She asked.  

“ _Yes_. I mean, yes I gave it to you. I gave it to you to wear. I had _hoped_ …but I didn’t think…” He reached out as if he were going to touch it, but withdrew his hand before it could touch her hair. “It is- _was_ -mine. I made it.”

He _made_ it?! Harry’s hand flew to her hair, ready to remove the object. “I couldn’t possibly keep it then, here-”

“ _No_!” Fíli looked horrified at the thought. Why? All she was going to do was return the clasp to him! It was his, after all! “Please, _please_ keep it. It’s a gift.”

“But-”

“-No buts! Keep it!”

“O-kay. Why give it to me though? You hardly know me-and it has a ton of protective charms and spells on it!”

“I know; my mother commissioned them after I made it. Said that I’m ‘a reckless little brat who needed as much protection as possible’ that was years ago, though. And I figured you would need the extra protection more than I.”

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened, cutting off Harry’s new line of questions. (Because really, what made him think that she’d need more protection than _him_? What was he playing at?)

The group that walked through the door doorway was striking to say the least. She recognized the imposing Dwalin, Frerin with his big grin and Nori with their not threatening-but-totally-terrifyingly-threatening posture.

There were more people as well. Twelve of them. There was a mousy looking boy around their age desperately trying to get away from a stern looking woman with red-brown hair (she reminded Harry of McGonagall with her tight hair-bun and the way her face seemed intense, but her eyes were full of affection for the boy). Next to that woman was a man with graying dark hair and beard and a large nose, laughing and trying to get her to leave the boy alone.

A little redheaded boy, no older than a third year though Harry suspected that he was younger, was pointing out this and that ‘and look at this, Adad!’ to a man with equally red hair and a beard bigger than Hagrid’s! The man grinned, _very_ loudly exclaiming that his little Gimli was such a bright and observant boy. It made the man next to him, with circular glasses and grey-and-red hair, groan and fiddle with something in his ear.

That man got a pat on the back by another who looked like a Wildman. On his forehead was a silvery scar that reached down the side of his nose, almost like a spell (Harry couldn’t see how far up the scar went because it was mostly covered by his wild hair), and another similar looking one was poking out of the top of his robes. Beside him was a man with a ridiculously floppy hat and a grin larger than Prince Frerin’s. And beside him was a red-headed man, silent but grinning, looking around the hall and writing something in a leather-bound journal (and was that a _camera_?!).

Leading their group were four adults: Frerin and two unknown males and a woman. One of the unknown men looked remarkably like Fíli: blonde hair, square jaw, that same quirk of his lips. He was doting over the woman who, while heavily pregnant, looked like she was going to turn around and curse him into next week if he didn’t stop. She looked more like Kíli with her thick brown hair tied back in an elegant braid, they had the same nose and cheek structure but the eyes were different. Hers were lighter. Possibly blue?

The last man could be described with many words. Tall, majestic, imposing, threatening, strong…he looked and carried himself like a King. His hair, long and pitch black like Harry’s and without a trace of gray, was tied at the base of his neck. His beard was dark and short compared to the others’ (and Harry made a mental note that all of the men had facial hair. Odd. Was it a cultural thing?) and his stare so terrifyingly intense.

That is, until his gaze found Fíli and Kíli and Harry and _Billa_ …his gaze softened and he _smiled_ (albeit a nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless).

No, Billa’s breath didn’t catch. Nor did her heart skip a few beats. That’s preposterous Harry! You really need to stop hanging around Fred and George so much!

Oh good, he had stopped looking at her. He was talking to Dumbledore.

“I apologize for our early arrival, Headmaster Dumbledore. I hope it isn’t an inconvenience?” He asked, his voice deep. So very deep.

“Certainly not! Hogwarts is always welcome to friendly guests Mister…?”

“Thorin, Crown Prince Thorin. This is my sister, Princess Dís;” The dark haired woman. “My brother in-law, Vali;” The blond man. “My younger brother, Prince Frerin; my most trusted guards and advisors, Dwalin, Nori, and Balin;” The laughing man with the large nose. “Balin’s wife Dori and her brother Ori;” The fussy woman and the mousy redheaded boy. “My cousins Glóin and his son Gimli, and his brother Oin,” The boisterous redhead, the young boy, and the man with the glasses. “My trusted companions Bofur” The man with the floppy hat. “His brother Bombur” The silent redhead. “And their cousin Bifur.” The wild looking man. “My nephew Fíli and my niece Kíli have already started terrorizing your students, it seems.” As their names are called, the foreigners give a small bow, but no more. It seemed that there would be no ‘at your service’s for Dumbledore.

“Nothing my student’s cannot handle, I’m sure.” Was that a challenge? It sure sounded like one. Evidently Prince Thorin thought so too as one of his dark eyebrows lifted. He didn’t comment. “Will your students be attending our classes? They’re more than welcome to.”

“No.” Prince Thorin shook his head. “My Company is more than qualified to teach them the curriculum set by my father and his counsel.”

Company. That was an interesting word choice.

( _‘Welcome, Billa and Harry –_

_-To the Company of-‘)_

The headmaster seemed to accept this answer. He offered them all a place at the head table, stating that they would have a more permanent place for their mealtimes in the morning. Fíli and Kíli were summoned and left _far_ too reluctantly in Harry’s opinion.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Kíli asked in a tone that implied that her world would simply _end_ if the answer was no.

“Er…sure? I guess.” They left with matching grins, Fíli giving the hairpiece one last unreadable look after he says his goodbye (which included another kiss to her knuckles).

“Blimey ‘Arry. What did you do to catch the eye of that Prince?”

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully.

A bite of Treacle Tart is halfway to her mouth before she freezes, nearly dropping it.

Fíli was a Prince!

A _Prince_!

Oh god…

“Maybe it’s because you’re Harry Potter.”

Something cold and heavy settled in her stomach and suddenly food wasn’t appealing. Even her beloved pudding.

That couldn’t be why Fíli was fascinated with her, could it?

*

Later that evening found the four in Ron’s room. They had checked on Neville-who was doing much better than he had been earlier and had missed dinner because he was engrossed in a herbology book, and Hermione had handed them ridiculous buttons with S.P.E.W. on it (apparently they were now part of her Magical Creature’s rights movement. Too bad Billa was the only one who was actually excited about it).

It would have been fine and dandy if Hedwig hadn’t returned; bringing a letter from Sirius that basically said that he was coming home because of Harry’s dreams (the ones where she woke up with her scar hurting).

 _Why_ did he think that that would make her feel better?! She wanted him safe! How was returning to the country where he’s a wanted criminal _safe_? Oh she was going to have words with him! And what did he mean by ‘Dumbledore’s reading the signs’? What the hell was going on?!

She gave her friends and sister a terse goodnight before excusing herself. Today had been too much for the poor girl.  

Moody, curses, her parents, worrying over Neville, the first delegation arriving, Fíli being a _Prince_ , and now _this_?!

Sleep was a welcome distraction, no matter the dream.

*

For Billa, sleep brings a barrage of dreams. The few that she remembers are a jumbled mess. There was blood, so much blood. Blood and fire and a delicious honey drink that made her head woozy and soft touches and loving, wordless whispers and terrified _screaming_ …

For Harry, sleep brings dreams so strong she’s affected when she wakes. She dreams of sweet kisses and the promise of eternity while the blonde man braids a section of her hair. She dreams of jealousy and sadness and _anger_ as Billa says her last goodbye to the salt and pepper haired King, angry that she could not do the same to her love. He was dead, a spear to the chest and arrows to the back…gone. So much for eternity.

When she wakes she’s crying softly.  There is only one word running through her mind:

 _Dwarves_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something about this chapter that I don't like. I kid you not I reread it a thousand times and I'm still unsatisfied with it. Oh well. 
> 
> From here things are going to get interesting! 
> 
> Also, in case any of you were wondering these are some of the endgame pairings (besides the two main ones):  
> Bofur/Kili  
> Neville/Luna  
> Bifur/Oin  
> George/Ori  
> Balin/Dori  
> Sirius/Frerin/Remus  
> Legolas/Gimli
> 
> The rest are still too be decided.

**Author's Note:**

> So, other pairings I had in mind are:
> 
> Bofur/Kili (later)  
> Fred/Hermione  
> George/Ori  
> Tauriel/Ginny (later)  
> Sirius/Frerin/Remus  
> Dwalin/Nori  
> Balin/Dori  
> Legolas/Gimli  
> But definitely let me know if there's a pairing that you want to see!


End file.
